If I could lay outstretched, my every atom laid side by side, from Kashba to the doorstep of the Carbide Building – if I could only, it would be my most glorious existence. But I can only imagine and dream of that time and space. So, unsettled, my heart string rings – my mind wanders from place to place.
My body is my prison. My happiness I carry within me, I use this ration sparingly – in momentary bliss I thrive, revive my dichotomous identity. I belong neither here nor there; I am an outsider everywhere. I am familiar and a stranger all at once. But this, my omnipresent discontent, is my singular solace.
Between two worlds, engrained with myriad forms and functions, I am the rainbow – and the rain.