I put a row of toys on the bed. A brown-haired Barbie doll, then a Lego ambulance...then a gray Buckbeak the Hippogriff.
This, once almost an endearing habit, is now an affectation that drives me to the brink of homicide.
I am really here. Yet I know I am not. I am inside something that must be buried in my head. I am layers deep in my own brain.
Time is a random thing. It is the thing that makes us older. Humans use it to organize the world. They have invented a system to try to make order from randomness. The other humans, all of them but me...
Apron, a cheap appropriation of the Cath Kidston effect. I feel like an interloper in someone else’s life. I am a creature from science fiction, wearing an earth body to disguise my true self.
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