We engrave our history within us, in our memory or under our skin. It is imprinted in fragmentary and deleterious spots on our calibrated and padlocked minds. It mixes and interweaves in the universe of our encounters until it becomes diluted while imbibing, while encrusting the images of the world through contagion or empathy. We are ultimately only osmotic beings whose consistency resides only in our relationship to others, only in our relationship to the host.
An overlapping, a telescoping and we imagine ourselves to be and exist in complete autonomy while we are only temporary atoms of an infinite whole.