I feel like, after many, many years of struggle, Iâve finally cast the discourses out of my soulâthat theyâre still scorching the door, hissing, writhing on the ground, but that there are now clear boundaries. Theyâre no longer tearing me to pieces, devouring me mercilessly, whispering, and disguising themselves as my authentic thoughts and feelings. What I think is crosswise; itâs not vertical or horizontal, but rather spinning constantly like a mill. These discourses are merely tools, an external emanation, and I no longer need them to create the project of "Me." I came into the world in the crossfire of constructionsânationality, gender, capital, language, and so onâbut managed to hide a seed somewhere in the corners before the darkness arrived.
Letâs call it a nanosphere in the brain, a tiny seed with which every person is born. It survived, despite the fire and invasion, and I want it to finally grow and live, if only for a season.


















