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“The secret tugs at my sleeve. A child looking for attention. It is not a big secret. But it is not the only one either. “Strength in numbers” they say. For they are many. Many little things that – together – weigh tonnes. And take up space. And are quite noisy. The way only a lot of whispers can make noise. And they follow me. Little secrets of omission, desire, and denial. Of indulgence, hedonism, and exploration. Of peeves, passion, and deep-seated fear. Little secrets of despair and disrepair and prohibited thoroughfare.” — Adelheid Manefeldt
The secret tugs at my sleeve.
A child looking for attention.
It is not a big secret.
But it is not the only one either.
“Strength in numbers” they say.
For they are many.
Many little things that – together –
weigh tonnes.
And take up space.
And are quite noisy.
The way only a lot of whispers can make noise.
And they follow me.
Little secrets
of omission, desire,
and denial.
Of indulgence, hedonism,
and exploration.
Of peeves, passion,
and deep-seated fear.
Little secrets
of despair
and
disrepair
and
prohibited thoroughfare.