What else did Barthes write? I cannot decipher you because I do not know how you decipher me. I learn to pull the signified from the mouths of other women who once looked like me. I learn to pour water from one vase into another heirloom. There is the slight residue of before. All of this silvery thread, an antidote. Without learning how to translate the past, I cannot decipher myself and, therefore, I cannot love with clarity.
The heart cannot fill with occasion, the full particulars of a narrative I don’t remember (N. Ramayya).