“The way human beings speak is so heartbreaking to me—we never sound the way we want to sound. We’re always stopping ourselves in mid–sentence because we’re so terrified of saying the wrong thing. Speaking is a kind of misery. And I guess I comfort myself by finding the rhythms and accidental poetry in everyone’s inadequate attempts to articulate their thoughts. We’re all sort of quietly suffering as we go about our days, trying and failing to communicate to other people what we want and what we believe.”
In Chinese myth, Chaos is not a figure of Evil (as in most western mythology) but is instead full of potential, benevolent if somewhat eerie, the ultimate force and source of all creation, of the myriad things like seeds in a gourd or the chopped up goodies in a won-ton, or the water in a spillover-vessel which flows out, letting each stream find its own channel, fertilising the earth, bringing everything into becoming.