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Worshipping Lali

The heart knows

A crisis is when the heart gets in the way of the head, when what is possible troubles what is expected. When the unsayable presses against the walls of story, urging it out of its cocoon, its fixations with plot and rhyme and outcome. It is no enemy. There is no enemy, just an ally with an ongoing emergence that language cannot comprehend; an old friend the heart already knows.

 

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Falling might very well be flying – without the tyranny of coordinates.