Stories about the limits of what can be said and known: the names that change what they name, the untranslatable thing, the word that arrives too late. Knowledge as a form of loss as much as a form of gain. Silence as its own kind of speech.
The touch was just a door.
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She was back in English, which had only its own words for what she meant.
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Not a forgotten thought. A thought that should exist, the way a species should exist, but doesn't.
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Whatever the forgetting was making room for.