All my life my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot nameAndré Breton
We are still unable to think what escapes us in its fleeing departing. We continue to give a name to what eludes names and naming by calling it what cannot be named. The mystery of language still evades us and language still turns away in its withholding. But how could we speak of what eludes speaking? Perhaps this question is the problem; perhaps we should stop speaking, but without becoming silent. Perhaps we should let language speak, saying its enigma.