feel slowly that my world is being inverted, like I’ve been looking at a painting, my entire life, upside down, and now the picture is suddenly clear and fully realised, abstractions taking the shape of bodies, all shiny flesh and limbs entangled. I finish the collection with tears in my eyes, breathless and aching, because here are words. Here is language. I laugh, out loud, at my desk, utterly disarmed by my joy, realising that this whole time, the picture was a portrait of two women, in love.
