A responsibility is not a duty I nobly enburden myself with – an imposition of the superego – but the aching need of the heart to respond to a real situation. It makes itself felt most clearly in mourning: when someone close to me dies my heart's impulse is to remember, and I struggle to keep them alive in the thoughts of my heart. In this sense all thought is simply the desire that the heart settle – that the pain stop. The struggle of our work is to be strong enough to bear our sensitivity – our mourning – without losing balance. To break open if not apart, and keep our footing.