Holes

I find myself trying to puncture two holes in the space between I and another. One to insert myself in their place, their body, their mind. And the other to peer out from their Self in order to see the way I look to the Other. A sort of anxious self-obsession and vanity that makes me addicted to crafting a Self that is pleasing to all Others but Me.

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UNTITLED #94

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I Saw A Woman Who Looked Like Me But Different