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Kiotara anthem /2: chains and handcuffs

I know I am a fool, hoping dirt and glory are both a kind of luminous paint.
I see like a bug, everything too large, the pressure of infinity hammering at my head.

But how else to live, vertical that I am, pressed down and pressing up simultaneously?

I cannot assume you will understand me.
It is just as likely that as I invent what I want to say, you will invent what you want to hear.

The probability of separate worlds meeting is very small.
The lure of it is intense.
We send starships.
We fall in love.

Love The Invader compromises the self's autonomy.
Love The Rescuer is the hand held out across the uncrossable sea.

Trust it? Perhaps.
I am of the generation brought up on romance. Where is the one for me?

I should be wary of ties that are chains and hands that are handcuffs.
What should lead me out is very likely to wall me in.

The bitterness of love is twin of its hope.

=======================

adapted from :Jeanette Winterson, "Gut Symmetries" (c) 1997

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