bringing a meeting to the man who can't speak, and finding out what you think by saying it — "Things I don't realize I think…"

Two of the theme's working channels appear at once. Joelle, hands moving, reconstructs last night's meeting for a man who can't attend or reply, ferrying the room's testimony to him across his muteness — a meeting delivered by proxy. And she stumbles on the anti-solipsist discovery that undoes her whole radio-booth self: standing up to speak to strangers, she finds she doesn't know what she thinks until she says it, that speech isn't the broadcast of a finished interior but the way the interior gets made. Talking, it turns out, is not transmission from a sealed self; it's how the self gets out of the seal. [sweep · shared-ground addiction-recovery]