Kaleidoscope. Vapour.

There is a point after which the momentum cannot be paused, redirected, or brought to a halt. There is only the furtherance of the motion. It’s hard to accept, the turn of the kaleidoscope shifting these little points of light and colour into a pattern that is unlike what I am used to, unlike what everyone else is living. I am a living distortion, a morphed image that I no longer understand. Not that I ever understood, but the illusion of understanding was there- now even that has disappeared. I am vapour, condensation on the window sill, watching everyone else play. 

About Moon Eggs

A woman who remembers enjoying writing.
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