scrap language part one

i used to talk a ton. not that i loved the sound of my voice or anything like that. it is just that i truly believed i had a lot to say. as i age, it has turned out i don't really have much to say, or maybe i have learned to say more with less. my language is %%red%%scrap language%%. sometimes non-verbal, non-literal, and gesticular-based, or fragmented, aphoristic, idiomatic, composted, and recycled little something's. nada fancy. my forties have seen a great quieting. my louder revolutionary youth has transformed and aged into a quieter well-considered insurgency. i used to confuse meaningfulness with how many words i could express it with. now meaning is derived through action, through doing. scrap languages are composed of small distinct pieces. slowly and over a lifetime, all these fragments quilt together. this is what gives meaning. while writing this, i thought of tolstoy. so many words! if you haven't read anna karenina, one of its most famous lines does most of the work of…