nights are the worst in winter, when the snow whirls around the building. the air is clean, fresh, hurts to breathe. just a drop of perfume is necessity.
the earth wavers under foot. to my left, there's a line of trees - steady, sturdy. to my right there's darkness, a void faltering in the night. straight ahead - who can tell?
unwind a sheet of plain white paper, look inside the box - too eager. it's not decorated, but it is not without meaning. look a little closer.
cinderella stands, straightening her posture. brushes down her dress, checking for grime - age old gesture carrying over. (no need: she has professional cleaners on speed-dial)
steal power from uneven sources, climb a tower and throw lightning bolts trying to exceed a limit. dance in a storm, feel electricity crackle around your body. (the limit is your own imposed perception)
imagine that we are the same, so identically drawn from the same fabric. pull a mask on, overwrite yourself; i'll refrain, for now. who do you see now? how do you differentiate?
faraway, to the left, the doppelganger stands. to the right awaits the ghost of a shared ancestress. carved cruelty and gently etched patience - distinct, blurring; drawn lines become indistinguishable.