— Gloria Anzaldúa (via crematorie)
Sick of those who come with words, words but no language,
I make my way to the snow-covered island.
Wilderness has no words. The unwritten pages
Stretch out in all directions.
I come across this line of deer-slots in the snow: a language,
Language without words.
— Tomas Tranströmer, From March 1979 (via heteroglossia)