A sentence can be the most beautiful of all illusions without talking about anything beautiful. A sentence is aspiring to be whole and is the achingly poignant reminder of the inter-dependence of the parts and the whole: the gaps, the enclosures and the full stop. A sentence holds in spite of everything even this niggling doubt of its very rationale of existence. A sentence is used to speak of the validity or the invalidity of itself, of existence. It is its own peril and its own proof. A sentence is my zero.