One hundred forty characters beckon our egos—to create some meaning, some sound in the silence, some connection. Staring at screens, we’re pulled by the come-hither look of a blank canvas, begging for the caress of a soft brush or the rush of paint, like a river undammed.
Sometimes all there is are words marching forward with no reason, no urgency, no destination, but for an existential pull. Sometimes a cynical line, a recycled quote, a laundry list of thoughts or activities released like a helium balloon to float out, filling space, and rising away. Sometimes a picture, or cries of horror the moment the sound leaves the lips of the suffering.
Sometimes 140 characters are all it takes to bring two souls together. Miles apart, each yearning for connection. Sometimes words arise from a blinding darkness, connecting disparate souls. And sometimes they just collect disparate souls searching for a way back.
