The man sat at the desk with a small, blank piece of white paper in front of him. At first, he did nothing, but as a few minutes passed, he took his pencil and began to write words at random, but words he knew.

  write    keep        here

I          value    existence

Because            there     words           essence

What was perceivable from such a random array of words. Perhaps where they were written on the page held some value, for looking at the negative seemed to always single out the positive. However, even with numerous permutations, it seemed unfathomable to get an entire meaning, but let's see what one can come up with just looking at each word individually.

...write...value...existence...

Perhaps one only has to be able to write to be able to value the true meaning of existence, whether or not their own philosophy constantly questions what it's meaning is. Or perhaps with words and essence, it not only has to do with just the method of writing, but any method of communication itself for there are multiple methods of communication that are always available.

Because?

Because of what?

there...

There are? There are...words?

Keep...here...

To keep me here? To keep something here? Where is here? Here as in now? Here as in this very spot?

However, before we can contemplate on any connotations any further, the man began to write again, with a lighter touch of his pencil, as if to make the words fade out.

...Ah...so it made sense now.

I write to keep myself here.

I write to value my existence.

Because as long as there are words, there is essence.

...As long as there are words...there is essence. We just need to fill in the blanks.