Please don’t misunderstand me. But do not try to understand me, if
that means to know me in your way. This is not a language of
surfaces to be staked and claimed.
What is so wonderful about speaking? If I speak, out loud, I have to
say what I mean. I grasp after the right word. I reach for the end of
my sentence. For every word I utter, a thousand more clamour in
contradiction. I fear the full stop as much as I long for it. In my
speaking I hear the oceanic roar of a silence I try to drown.