“A mist rises from a nearby mound. It could be me, that mist, or simply the caretaker’s mower-dust. If the breeze blows just right, I’ll ghost your solid, entwine your hair. Promise me you won’t shampoo, but carry me along, tiny dust-particles of me.” WritingDeathMetaphorStream Of Consciousness Book:On Being a Rat and Other Observations Source: On Being a Rat and Other Observations
“I continue to live inside a dichotomy: what was and what shall be. The pain in my skull is me trying to mesh the two.” WritingDichotomyStream Of ConsciousnessCognitive Dissonance Book:On Being a Rat and Other Observations Source: On Being a Rat and Other Observations