I remember back then, when I was still figuring out what I was feeling, I would wait until everyone was asleep and then sneak under the bedcovers, put on my headphones and listen to Lara Holy's poem "dangerous language" ... back then it was hard to find, copies were traded like gold among those in the know. With my heart beating and body trembling, alone under the blankets I would listen to her speaking to me, again and again, realising these were feelings I was trying to understand, put into words and I had never heard anything like this before, nor has anything since moved me in such a way...
