We have, adopt, feign a point of view. There is a direction over the threshold, through the limen, out into the wide published world.  Publication doesn’t wait but bursts and overflows the edges of the private and the public.

And what an edge it is that disappears when overwhelmed, an edge that ceases to divide, an edge made unimportant through its lack of holding power. An overflowing, a tipping point, an overbalancing, a bursting that makes mockery of borders and membranes, causes elements to mix and mud to gel into new contours. A fishing boat flung high above the town. A new river source.