If you are not the free person you want to be you must find a place to
tell the truth about that. To tell how things go for you. Candor is like
a skein being produced inside the belly day after day, it has to get
itself woven out somewhere. You could whisper down a well. You could
write a letter and keep it in a drawer. You could inscribe a curse on a
ribbon of lead and bury it in the ground to lie unread for thousands of
years. The point is not to find a reader, the point is the telling
itself. Consider a person standing alone in a room. The house is silent.
She is looking down at a piece of paper. Nothing else exists. All her
veins go down into this paper. She takes her pen and writes on it some
marks no one else will ever see, she bestows on it a kind of surplus,
she tops it off with a gesture as private and accurate as her own name.
Anne Carson, from section “Could 1” of “Candor,” BOMB Magazine (no. 116, Summer 2011)