“Things had become impossible between them and nothing could be salvaged. Certain words must be said. And although each one had said those words silently to herself a hundred times, neither had the courage to say them outloud to one another. So they began to hope someone else might say the necessary words for them. Perhaps a letter might arrive or a telegram delivered that would say what they could not. Now they spent their days waiting. What else could they do?”
I’m moved by this one as an endeavor to look for the language in which homosociality can be spoken. The suspension of the image and the text accompanying Michals’ work as his common strategy open up queer dreamlands in which unspoken desires echo, ripple and reverberate.