Perhaps we should begin by talking about the tension in a rope, how it behaves in a gentle breeze, the possibility that something may happen that shouldn’t, and maybe then quote Didi-Huberman (On the Tightrope): “The wire links, threads and guides. Or rather, on the contrary, it slices, sharpens and breaks. The wire always hangs by a thread. Such is its beauty - its beautiful danger - and its fragility”, and then go on to tell how the first thread appeared, that it was horizontal and crossed the space from one wall to another, a tightrope walker’s wire, at neck height, invisible. Somehow or other we should begin to describe the tension in something that is there without being seen so as, somehow, to get to grips with it, get down to business, find the unsaid word as easily as a needle pierces a glove, let it spin, finish, follow its path, empty itself, hit the earth with every fall, with every blow, defend itself, invent itself, invent every story and every metaphor, play, fail, be nothing, not be.
A tightrope is exactly that - tight.