Language as a borrowed home

We inhabit words we never built: the subject arrives into a world where signifiers have already carved the paths through which desire will travel. Like heirs to a millennial symbolic architecture, we enter the social space through phonemes that awaited us even before our first cry. We don't choose the grammar that will shape our mind; we are chosen by it, perpetual tenants in a house built by anonymous ancestors.

The analytic experience reveals how, paradoxically, the more we claim ownership over words, the more they demonstrate their foreign character. Like the actor who memorizes a script until forgetting they're repeating lines written by another, we convince ourselves we speak with our own voice when we're simply modulating an echo. Language makes us believe we are its masters precisely when it most effectively traverses and determines us.

The contemporary subject must confront this primordial linguistic colonization. Recognizing the constitutive exteriority of speech not to surrender to it, but to establish a less naive relationship with that symbolic Other that inhabits us. Possible freedom doesn't consist of escaping language, but creatively inhabiting its limits, transforming the borrowed house into a space where our desire finds its singular intonation.