If my desire is possible, it means the system is already letting something else through.

Censor the body and you censor breath and speech at the same time. Write yourself. Your body must be heard.

You only have to look at the Medusa straight on to see her. And she's not deadly. She's beautiful and she's laughing.

Writing is the passageway, the entrance, the exit, the dwelling place of the other in me.

She alone dares and wishes to know from within, where she, the outcast, has never ceased to hear the resonance of fore language. She lets the other language speak - the language of 1,000 tongues which knows neither enclosure nor death. To life she refuses nothing. Her language does not contain, it carries; it does not hold back; it makes possible.

If my desire is possible, it means the system is already letting something else through.

Other-Love is writing's first name.