iilwimi lipsing is about a politics of not-translating and listening with a feminist ear which can also be an eye, skin or fist.

I like how it sounds a bit like wimmin. Wimmin-ing. It’s queer and i and i, like we. It’s lots. Very plural-y. And very very and so. Sounds like lips and ellipses and singing and kissing and something about size, like a thing that is small and growing. It’s funny how ppl get upset from internet comments about bad lipsing. Lipsing is verby it’s doing. It’s now. It’s painting the chin and cheeks so the lips stand out. It’s a tongue in another mouth. To go inside your body. The i’s are quite wavy i and i and i and i and i and i. It’s slow then it’s fast. I’m thinking about the shapes the sound makes my mouth. what words do with me. ii is air muscled out. When did I suck that air iin even? iilwimi lipsing is nice to say softly against the hand. Rushy.

For this issue, iilwimi lipsing, we changed our funding model quite radically. We went from diy to Arts Council Funded to be able to share the invitation to contribute more widely. While this undoubtedly has made a vibrant issue, the capacity needed for writing the funding application (it took a year with managing wage work and life commitments!), receiving support for this, rejigging our framework to fit narrow funding criteria, meant that the original spirit of the PaperWork was somewhat thwarted. The thought of beginning the next issue with another funding application at the time when Arts Council had just changed their application system, has contributed to PaperWork quietly folding away. This issue lives on in the eight boxes of unbound issues under my bed. Let me know if you'd like a copy!