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I can’t stop feeling, though, that we are all a little hyphenated. Our own experience of the world, even if it’s one we can’t easily put into words, is precisely this of glomming onto on or being glommed onto, losing oneself in one’s lover. We are dependent on others, permeable, amorphous. After the initial surprise, conjoined twins actually seem kind of normal. After all, when the sperm cozies up to it, what does the egg do? It divides. Where was one, there are two, and they’re twins. Then the twins divide and those twins divide, and those twins divide and so on and on. The grand project of individuality has its origin in duplication.

Shelly Jackson, Cabinet Magazine, “The Double”
2 years ago