Some days a shadow falls over us, we can not explain what this shadow is or how it changes who we are but it is there, a lingering doubt on the edge of consciousness, a hand pushing you forward to your fate.
We move, even in the brightest light in a semblance of darkness, a shroud becomes our skin, our life is a blur of motion, jealousy and hurt. Why? What form have we taken through our actions that has led us here, this path a garden of forking ways, this journey now reaching its conclusion?
My mind works like a child’s toy, wound up for a moment of play and left to extinguish itself after its owner has grown bored and wandered away. I spin and I spin and I chatter in an ever descending rhythm of clicks and clacks, until I stop.