curdle out of insubstantiality into substance. What I curdle, incidentally, is your brains, but the resultant mess isn’t me. The knots and bogies of coagulated goop suddenly formed inside your head aren’t me incarnate. They’re still just proteins and fats and hemoglobin, the stuff you’re made of. No, I’m the process, if that makes any sort of sense at all. When I go in, I catalyze, I set changes in motion. In Orthodox Trinitarian terms, there’s now three of us in one: you, me, us.
