Nonverbal

When the black dog dips her nose and looks at the ground. When babies babble, coo, and cry.  A tea kettle screeches and dribbles over in its excitement.  A goose (matching the fog) calls out.  No answer.  Calls.  Nothing.  Calls.  These all have their significance. Maybe the context of sound or company or lack creates meaning.  We build connections where they may not be to build ourselves.  Pushing against what we know and what we do not, we establish the table because of the chair. Blindness means sight. Duchamp made a fountain because we piss.   We use language to trace our thoughts and tantalize them.  Saussure and the Structuralists used all these segments to explain.  But what happens when the ties between the twig drawings on the walls do not exist?  When there may or may not be a subjective or temporal relation between "Jesus Christ!" and "He...uh," and "Yeah!" or "No!" What happens when things are deconstructed, not because it is a fun postmodern game to play, not because the absurd extracts truth, but because my father's frontal temporal lobes no longer function?  As a high school teacher, I have learned to hear what my students mean to say and pick with them as they uncover the best way to say it.  Here is an obscurity I cannot mark.