I am for complete indistinctness between languages, between things, between languages and things. I am for aerial spaces empty of flight-paths and filled with the babble of invention. I am for losing my way and marching onwards purposefully towards a thing which I wish would work. The point of touch is the knot I want to coax into words and comb through my writing until I can ease it out into the world. I want it to touch, and as it touches I want it to dissolve onto the tip of my tongue and I will swallow it into my body. I am for deferent writing, self-aware writing that follows and loses itself against the threat of the real and closes down, and in closing opens itself to the knowledge of itself within the world. I want the vulnerability of the text that knows it is text, the text that waits for you and asks you to give it the body of the paper around it. The deferent text is itself, and it is itself at the service of the extra-textual world.

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