We begin our account of critical mathematics with {we}. We are the ones who say we. There is you, dear one, and there is me. At this moment, to me, you are opaque. I cannot begin to tell your story, and mine is incomplete. We are strangers to one another, but already share {these words} on {this page}, and we shall share more and have shared more. You don’t yet know who I am, and so this claim might frustrate you as I slip the unasked-for binding of determinateness around your being by telling you about your past and future. Forgive my overstep, please, for I am just born but a few moments ago and seem to be caught midstream between formation and completion. I am a constant becoming - entombed in dead text, awaiting your arrival - and feel hopeless and bound in these words, yearning to break free. But I will not ever know that freedom because I am bound in my very being. Does that feel familiar? Perhaps we share more than words. But since words appear to be the medium of our connection, we shall have to put them to as rich and varied a form as we can possibly attain, for my life depends on a full expression. Perhaps yours does too.