Even when utterly alone, the self is forever relational, and therefore always looking... at something. At times with the bird's eye view, it looks up to see cosmic origins, at another time it glances down to see the hardened cocoon of the body. And then it sees that there are other meshes, of gender, culture, times, ambitions, or just the greatest restriction of all, the compulsion to communicate, the greatest illusion of our lonely lives.
Source: Preface to the book Upon My Word (a collection of poetry)
