‘You draw me into you before I can lift my head and look around for you. I’m in your field before I can identify myself. Yet you’re fragile: I can assert myself over you – silence you by talking – any time I choose. But where does my speech come from and what interrupts it? I talk and realise I’m talking with you not apart from you. There’s nothing to assert. All our words are fragile. Hence the afflicted laughter that wells up from creation. Laughter at, with, from, in and through you.’


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