Something else runs under my skin. Something that isn’t blood or muscle or bone. Something that is in the bathwater too. That is the bathwater. The warped refraction of myself moves through its crystal liquid and I wonder what is me and what is the water. Where is the line drawn between me, the water, the light, and the universe? I gaze up through the frosted window at the winking stars above. What separates an eye from a nuclear furnace? Semantics. Prejudice. Fear. All it requires to make them one and the same is the realisation that they always were. An act of ultimate will.
Paddy Dobson
6th February 2022