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It began before I could speak, when speech was a thing that happened to me. The reverberations of my mother’s voice like a current, a timbre, my physical body existing in its wake. It began when I pretended to read, to write. I am two years old. I am reading, but I cannot yet read. I am writing with a stick through the dirt in my backyard. I know I am speaking with something very large and invisible by doing this.
It began before I could speak, when speech was a thing that happened to me. The reverberations of my mother’s voice like a current, a timbre, my physical body existing in its wake. It began when I pretended to read, to write. I am two years old. I am reading, but I cannot yet read. I am writing with a stick through the dirt in my backyard. I know I am speaking with something very large and invisible by doing this.
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