There is a nowhere place half-way inbetween us built by words and the assumptions that give birth to them. Our mask-selves dance there, bow, then turn smile, and turn again; negotiating the little slips, the minor stumbles that twitch aside our true-self veils glimpsing each other in our proxies' mistakes. When did we learn our civilization exists only in our ability to lie? 10.6.01 JV