this is not an essay . it’s a reflexion . shards of reflection . tangents fragments pieces of shrapnel . a quiver of arrows . a loaded magazine . a memorandum . a thank you

I am a writer by trade and I strive for clarity but clarity might not be possible . some of this is chaos . chaos is the truth of my experience my feelings in the two weeks since the symposium . I had to work through it to achieve the calm train of thought expressed in the final piece . I almost cut everything else, but it felt dishonest . chaos is my truth . fear confusion delirium is my truth . I cut through mists of fear to establish a level tone of voice

if it’s all too much for you, my story, skip to the end . my thoughts on participation are sober and I hope useful, and open a solution space for our conversation to enter . I’ve tried to structure the intervening material as best I can . as a professional I try to be dispassionate and sober, but sometimes as an artist I feel forced to turn myself inside out and reveal the process, the turmoil and ferment that fuels growth and revelation . sometimes that’s what I need of civil space . I need it to be a place where it’s ok to feel awkward and exposed and confused

I’ve also tried to honour the wealth of material presented, which included sober selfexamination, invaluable research, polemic, and most of all the fruits of experience, hard work and dedication . I offer thanks . the words of others are presented in bold . please bear in mind that these are notes streamed and edited and hybridised to compose a highly subjective transmission . I did not make recordings

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