I took precarious life on holidays in July and read Butler lying in the hammock on the farm and it was wonderful of course. But as I am trying to learn to be an academic and not just a casual admirer of Butler's, I have been rereading with my most critical face on. whatever. i still love her...
'For if I am confounded by you, then you are already of me, and I am nowhere without you. I cannot muster the 'we' except by finding the way in which I am tied to 'you', by trying to translate but finding that my own language must break up and yield if I am to know you. You are what I gain through this disorientation and loss. This is how the human comes into being, again and again, as that which we have yet to know.'
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