I've commented that exploring the stroke account by Jill Bolte Taylor is giving me language for experiences in my life I could not previously explain. Is this the gift of writing? Is this what books provide us with? I wonder if storytelling is a way of giving people language to express an experience they didn't even know they were having, to provide a framework by which they can see themselves and make sense of their own story. Perhaps language isn't the big bad demon I've been seeing it as. Maybe I just didn't know what to say.