Me and my violet parasol with no moon or stars. Real or imagined. I feel so free in these chains and their mastery. Yes. A pure fuck I am. And, when I look at those photographs now I don't see me, I see us. My shadow and light. Through the devil softly.
And the stars were aligning. And the angels were calling. And I'm a stranger here myself. Freedom wrapped in invisible chains. And then sometimes it even seems as though what I had dreamed for had come true. I had a new set of eyes and I had lost the "straight path" and entered a "dense, wild, and tangled wood." It just didn't seem all that believable. But it was, however, real.
© WORDS Wendy Rose Watson