We might wonder that we can communicate at all, transform inner worlds into outer words, set our bodies in a common ground, mire ourselves in a no-man's-land of symbols and terms and expectations. Yet even in our solitude we are with our thoughts. They are the words of others heard, learned, saved up, rewound, remixed, distended, distorted, replayed. Only then can thought take on the neutrality of language. My idiolect, parasitic on the others, guarantees that community cannot be escaped.
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