Karen Neuberg Intersect Which strings we clutch depends on whose mouth first fisted words from see; or was it budded words, and we clasp stems? No difference—there's only so much to grasp at once. What's more, small holds can widen, just push against—a corner! opens into maw; senses can't adjust immediately, but lift beyond their previous set. What breaks away yaws close; and later we use this-we-set-to-loosen-from as an umbilical cord that hauls us back. Here, something is the same we're almost sure, but then, we're not. about Karen Neuberg