But those two plays left me on fresh terms with language. I didn't always have to speak in my own voice.
Class is classlessness.
Arthur Young's Reflexive Universe - fascinating but too schematic to fit into my scheme. The most I could hope for was a sense of the vocabulary and some possible images.
The day is breaking someone else's heart.
The simplest science book is over my head.
At college I'd seen my dead frog's limbs twitch under some applied stimulus or other - seen, but hadn't believed. Didn't dream of thinking beyond or around what I saw.