The simple if mildly scandalous truth was that his accent
              changed.  Close attention to its
timbre might allow a new faith in the fact of
              continuous revision; accent not an
indisputable centre but a desire, an attuning beyond
              certainty sprung in that lush early
valley of surplus identity, a valley where decision was
              unashamed and the real accent was
on how and when and whether 
time became hard or supple 
in the course of this unfolding.