The brain has a number of ways that one can view it. You can know what one person is thinking only though the words they say and those that they write. You cannot know anything anyway else.
Yes the body says a lot brings out a lot form people and what they are and what they want to be. Yet what are we really?
One might be able to write and one might be able to speak, we take away the contact the communication we become ticking time bombs that cannot express themselves. We fall in love and out of it, we make friends and lose them and we lose ourselves.
So we write and we talk, the body gives off our senses, our feelings but nothing can be as truly as attractive as a seductive body of words caressing our imagination and bringing forward our senses. One might say many things but if they do not know how to speak they will never speak to your soul, to you specifically you.
I love writing because I try to speak to people, when I cannot speak to people I write. Yet this does not always work because my words are not the best that can be written. I am not Shakespeare who has literally written and created parts of the English language. I am however still immortal on the pages that I am writing on, in my own way parts of what I want to say are there and will always be there because that is true literature.
Remembering studying Ozymandias, that poem will never leave me. The great king tried to immortalize his empire and hence his legacy however he failed to do so. The great king is each and every one of us who tries their best to create a legacy that they can leave behind.
I am maybe a bit to young to be able to leave such a legacy however maybe today, I will yet again write a small piece of poetry, or prose that I can leave behind me and let others know that see and read my words.
A small part of my soul.