A mind without a living mirror—without sentient affirmation it exists in the world–seeks substantiation. Moving toward warmth, it turns back on itself, like a honeysuckle vine with nowhere to grow, twisting around its own tendrils, winding and tightening; complicating and choking.
A mind requires an other to be healthy–a counterpoint, a contrast; it needs difference to reflect its self-sameness. The reflection reaches out and gives the mind’s process a shape. Without form, process backs up, it overflows, and it floods everything.
Process without shape glides over the world–sliding over it, standing next to it, never actually connecting or engaging. Process agency whispers, hides, withdraws; its power diffuse and ephemeral. Its liminality aches.