to the “pathos” of his predecessors, that his hand is too slow for his thought or his pas- sion, and that in consequence, making a law out of necessity, he must accentuate this gap and endlessly “elaborate” his form; for him, on the contrary, his hand, detached from any voice, borne by a pure gesture of inscription (and not of expression), traces a field without origin — or which, at least, has no other origin than language itself, that is, the very thing which ceaselessly questions any origin. — We know that a text does not consist of a line of words, releasing a single “theologi- cal” meaning (the “message” of the Author-God), but is a space of many dimensions, in which are wedded and contested various kinds of writing, no one of which is ori- ginal: the text is a tissue of citations, resulting from the thousand sources of culture.
`infertility' (2) Expectation that men will not be: (a) weak (b) vulnerable (c) "It was as if a part of me had died, a part of me was emotional d) losing physical control. never going to be fulfilled. Grieving to hold a baby...a · Will always be: part of me felt like a major disappointment to everybody...I felt like I (a) strong/robust (b) not needing help (c) ceaselessly interested in had disappointed my husband, I disappointed my folks, I disappointed sex (d) displaying aggressive behaviour (when needed) (e) show his folks, and I disappointed myself." "It affects your ego. It has an physical dominance immense affect on selfconcept, in all kinds of crazy ways. You ask · Male infertility more stigmatised because of a cultural conflation `How can I be a real woman
Along its pebbled banks, shallow pools that never completely drained were teeming with life. I was very cautious not to lean too far over the little ocean ponds. The others were fearless, leaping over the rocks, perching precariously on the edges. I found a very stable-looking rock on the fringe of one of the largest pools and sat there cautiously, spellbound by the natural aquarium below me. The bouquets of brilliant anemones undulated ceaselessly in the invisible current, twisted shells scurried about the edges, obscuring the crabs within them, starfish stuck motionless to the rocks and each other, while one small black eel with white racing stripes wove through the bright green weeds, waiting for the sea to return. I was completely absorbed, except for one small part of my mind that wondered what Edward was doing now, and trying to imagine what he would be saying if he were here with me.
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