If I say NDN,

If I say NDN, am not I already multiple.

Have I not already become more than a singular being.

Which is to say, have I not, in the resounding collectivities of dust and ochre already become more than what “I” could ever mean.

If I say I, NDN, am I not saying: We, NDNs.

If I say: We, NDNs, am I not also saying, I-who-was-always-already-more-than-myself.

Always already is not complex enough, of course. But how do we say that we who (were/are/will be?) multiple, and are therefore more than a singular “I,” have always been, could only ever be, have always been going to be, this multiplicity, this ongoingness that is irreducible to the self, and yet, which always also includes the self-in-relation?

If I say “I,” am I betraying Indigenous kinship?

If I say I (Indigenous), then am I ever alone?

Is it possible to imagine Indigeneity in isolation? As an isolate?

Isolate comes from “island”. The experience of being islanded, surrounded by water, unconnected from other land. As if the water were not land, too. As if the water were not part of the body, but something unholy, something furious.

If I say NDN, do I even mean that I, who has said this word, could bear the burden of such singularity?

If I say NDN, can I be something other than the future dream, the becoming, of a networked profusion, a blooming?

If I say NDN, is it that I have lost everything, or that I have only ever been a possibility emergent? A wind?

Am I not trellising body upon land, rooting, vine-making, kinstillating, like Karyn says, astral projection of something that could only ever be more than itself.

Is “I” a relative, or a doubt on the minds of thieves and would-be prophets?

Can I be a relative if I am a singular being?

Can I be in relation without you?

Can I be NDN without you?

Can I NDN?

Can I?