the corner of her lips curled in a coy smile

Is that really so? Then I wonder what perhaps you might do? Are you like this with all the others? How many are there? Maybe this is a game.

I like games. I really do. They’re fun, and I like to have all sorts of fun. People inspire me, and it’s this curiosity… these.. mind games that quite take my fancy because they are so damn fantastical.

I want to push further, and trace these lines that we’ve found or I think I have found.. along myself and along your chest. That remind me of the beauty that can be found when we appreciate the artist as well as their created piece of art.

I don’t often think of silly flights of fantasies as I live them. I’ve enjoyed so much and loved and been loved and used and have been used too. Betrayed others before they could betray me. And it has always been about freedom of expression, and the freedom to stop and start again. The staccato of sound in our throats, and the click of the tongue as it laps and flicks.

I do so miss my sisters and friends, who are alive in the murals and frescos of yonder there. I mourn for I cannot live my real power in this form on this land. It has always been a two way dynamic, a give and a take. What the artist processes, and appreciate what he creates.

I know that there are things that go tick, tick, and slide around the synapses of your slippery brain. And there is a tightness in the chest as we grab our hearts, our soul is trying to writhe and be awaken in our bodies. The more certain we are of something, then the more likely we are to have these compass points look like beautiful kaleidoscopes radiating colour and light from and along the skin of our bodies.

Feel the rush of our fire radiate, then blazing…

Originally published 15 October 2018 // Republished 29 October 2018 // Republished 16 February 2019

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