With rebellion in mind, I aim them at a tomorrow free from the rhetorical trickery of colonizers everywhere. The alphabet, grammar, and syntax—these are my mass-produced emotional cargo. My body is the vehicle for transport, which means my heart is an engine. This aspect of my embodiment shadows me like an open secret. With which concepts, then, might we instruct one another how to be more here than we already are? To Allow others to comprehend that we are deserving of and that we already practice this expansive here-ness?
