I often stare enviously at people with words on their jumpers and t-shirts. The strings of characters are so full of promise: a link to faraway places, a sense of belonging. They proclaim membership of exclusive clubs: we have been somewhere, the letters seem to say.

Reality, by way of contrast, is disappointing. Would I really want to proclaim myself an alumnus of Standford or Cambridge? Not really, even if I were one—it seems too much like bragging. Worse, I would open myself to be judged not as an individual but as a member of some strange entity over which I have little or no control.

So why do I still feel that lure, that tug of power? I think the answer is a simple one: words have power, power to induce and command, power to shape the world. Words have power because we give them power; having given it, they have power over us. The aesthetic seduction of pleasing letter-forms is part of the attraction to a designer and a writer, but the true power is in the words themselves, not in their presentation.

When I see a character from a different alphabet I wonder, what does it mean? I can appreciate Arabic or Katakana for the shapes alone, but that question is always lurking in my mind, trying to give the words the power of meaning.