My head plunges down and forward into deep water, to reach what lies on the other side. I stand on a winding street near my first home, a song I recognise plays like chirping birds.
A man faces me, his eyes brown where mine are green - his green, my brown. His life has been taken for another to use, now is lost forever. There is always a face or two, however many of the beings that encounter me have no features at all to call upon.
I do not return to a continuous, catalogued existence. I live a thousand lives.
VerityAlways almost 2 years ago
Ah! That was nice twist
VerityAlways almost 2 years ago
Like the "catalogued existence"
sully almost 2 years ago
Thanks for the kind words Verity :)