The Space Between
The space between imaginary and real, between you and me. Performing myself, conforming to myself. I am a replica, a human construction, a robotic body crafted with care. I am plastic, moulded clay, I am a vase, a phone, a mannequin, a stack of chairs. Who am I am without my possessions? Can you tell? I am a flock of swallows over the horizon, inevitably fading away. A fictional space of perennial solitude, of memorabilia, of residing memories, of objects that outlast us as traces of life left behind. In this space I'm bound, awaiting a picture, a substitute to seize, a representation to take my place.
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