An hour and a dim light, on the train to an airport. In looking around, are five of us in the cab, three men and two women. No young, no old. Wet: it's raining cats and dogs outside and get to the station was not easy. Besides its wealth of small order, each is wrapped in his coat and in his thoughts, which you can see and almost feel, should not be happy. Thoughts that are obviously language. Interior. But, for the linguist and his alleged experience heuristics, unless the exterior of what such continuous flow into the interior of this train as a coach at this time and from time immemorial, anywhere in the world there is or there is was a human being? than American idea (but that it can be defined? O and cheating wives' tale?) Of an abstract infinity, when compared with the real sea of \u200b\u200bhuman expression: concrete, finite (How could it be otherwise? Human, has been told). And yet, think to grab a thought, endless. What a foolish and childish
program for thousands of years to deal with those who say the language, even if it pretends to understand only the sea but also to explain it. If you are under the illusion, to do so, to be able to empty it with washes of paiolini un'arcigna philological doctrine and a laughable grammatical paraphernalia.
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