What I mean is; beware the young lawyer who starts twisting words in pretzels or splitting them open with the casualness of fruit. "Unpacking" he calls it - he's young and sort of pleading but I wear the gauntlet and I hold my advantage - the conviction of honesty with no reason to lie. He (poor man) is being paid to rearrange a statement spin words in circles for a particular end. But today, just for once, I am the falconer and I know how to call my words back to my glove. Oh! For once I feel certain, my mind crisp and unsullied by tiredness or fear. I soar with my statement on thermals and eddies on currents of air he can't even see. Because words are like falcons - they're colleagues, not prisoners. He's trying to inveigle my friends and my hunters and trying to retrain them for his own hellbent use. No sir. Not today sir. I am a writer - these are my words and I know what they mean.