Chapter One: Reparations
I am a small child, somewhere between the time language opened up the world of meaning to me and six years later when my mother died and key words lost their meaning. Words in the dictionary. Words I could no longer comprehend. Forever. Dead.
which had suddenly turned from solid sign into a mysterious drifting sound in an extraordinary moment when my mother, perhaps unknowingly, enabled me to see the precariousness of meaning, its constructed fragility.
"Knock, knock," she said, having taught me the routine.
"Who's there?" (I might have clapped in...