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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.

3 comments add one below

  • avatar

    VerityAlways 7 months ago

    Ah! That was nice twist

  • avatar

    VerityAlways 7 months ago

    Like the "catalogued existence"

  • avatar

    sully 6 months ago

    Thanks for the kind words Verity :)

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