My wild words are the words that want to be heard and seen — as opposed to the ones I want to write. They are the words I keep caged in the depths of my soul. They are the ones I sometimes hear crying, or, even worse, the ones that have forgotten how to cry. They are the words that leak out, or that sabotage my life, in so many realised and unrealised ways. They are as often words of joy and peace as they are words of sorrow or anger.