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Centaurus. He/She/They depends, just use my name.

Message from Writer

"Before I got my eye put out,
I liked as well to see
As other creatures that have eyes,
And know no other way.

But were it told to me, to-day,
That I might have the sky
For mine, I tell you that my heart
Would split, for size of me.

The meadows mine, the mountains mine,
All forests, stintless stars,
As much of noon as I could take
Between my finite eyes.

The motions of the dipping birds,
The lightning's jointed road,
For mine to look at when I liked,
The news would strike me dead!

So safer, guess, with just my soul
Upon the window-pane
Where other creatures put their eyes,
Incautious of the sun."

~Emily Dickinson, Sight


June 10, 2021


Oh, what freedom it is to have no identity.
No one to judge you, no one to harm you.
Oh, what freedom it is to stay anonymous.

A new beginning, a blank slate, a painted-over wall, a white canvas.
Of course, I have a name, and of course, I have an online name, but here I can let loose. 
All of these words pouring out like a torrent, eternal flooding. 

Even then, this flood is cleansing. 
A purge of the corrupt population.
In Greek mythology, Zeus floods the mortal realm; in Christianity, God floods the human plane.

An interminable rain.
A downpour of words.
A hurricane of sentences.

Oh, what freedom it is to be invisible.


See History
  • June 10, 2021 - 6:14pm (Now Viewing)

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