So we’ve got the rib spreaders out to force the cavity as far open as we can, grasping down deep and convincing those pushed aside and half-forgotten truths to face the air. How very similar; have we borrowed memories or swapped minds? We might be one organism split into two, and if those silken threads The Fates toy with had been different, we could have been denied the chance to become whole again. Or, if they’d seen fit to knot our tale, perhaps the opportunity would have arisen sooner. What does it matter now? Our wires are matched.
writer, book reviewer, daydreamer
Treeshallow Musings 