I toss out a sentence, and the sentence bursts open in the air like fireworks (étoiler). Its sparks fall on distant land, and as for whether they ignite a flame, I can only silently pray. I have no grip on the sentence, as if the sentence were itself a body without organs.
The pleasure of conversation is accomplished in this tossing and catching of sentences. It must be turn-based. At the same time, the content of each sentence is suspended, discussed lightly as a present absence. It is not an exchange of information (échange): conversation is a fine, covert, fluid vibration, forming a richly textured fabric (tissu / hypho).