Deleuze: "Up to what point can we unfold the line without falling into an unbreathable void, into death, and how to pleat it without nonetheless losing contact with it, in constituting an inside co-present with an outside, applicable to the outside?" (Deleuze 1990, 153)
The intricacies and intimacies of who "we" are, are found in the folds and pleats of who she/he is, they are. And no small task, the project of continuous folding and unfolding, pleating and unpleating, is, as Deleuze describes it, the work of both poetry and philosophy.
And fashion. Fabrics and patterns, my ties, emote, imagine and invite; the imagined, desired, distant other. I dazzle in his, your, my presence. I fold and unfold into you. On se plie et on se déplie. And so the lines disappear.
I wish the invitation and the "party" always turns out homogeneous in excitement. I dazzle, unfolds make the lines disappear.
Then you bend and you fold me anyway you please
It must be easy for you the loving things that you do
Is it a pastime for you, that I could never be
But that's how you control me
Then I fold back