Let us say that Brain is the center of the language. For the language. A slip of the tongue in the form of placement and replacement or replacement.

Let us say that there is no real multitude contained in this language. Or in my other language. And when I say language, I mean to say, that which the We is not sharing. That which is only visible for you.

A code before your eyes as a sequence of ones and zeroes and tones that are leaving my throat or my fingers or my nails and become a translatable code before your eyes.

This is Brain’s doing.  

Let us say that when I say us I mean a We I mean an I, I mean the artificiality of language controlled and silenced and obscured by Brain. And when I say us I mean only me and the artifice of community. The artifice of a We in which I have yet to discover myself. The artifice with which I pull you away only because this was made for you.

Let us name what Brain has named before us:

A control center for plasticity.