'Lately, I don’t have any poetry in me. The words are always too thick and ungraspable, or they’re too thin, seeping out of my loosely clenched fingers. I close my hand into a tight fist, wanting to wring this feeling out. Language passes through me, in cloudy shapes I only vaguely recognise as the distance between myself and the rest of the world. I read a quote from a scientist that says I am both a universe of atoms and an atom in the universe. This feels incomprehensible, so I imagine my body as a container waiting to be filled or emptied.' (Introduction)