_Metanoia (In lieu of therapy 4/X)

These are similar looks but the actual opposite.

In passing, sometimes frugal, other times held for an eternity. Static on the trains. Ecstatic. Making me want to be assimilated by the seats, making me want to be part of the fabric patterns that repeat effortlessly, endlessly, so easy to remember and yet, forget.

When I was a child, instead, it was the cringe and (most likely) disgust that attracted such looks. Fat, odd, creepy little child. Thinking ahead of you, anticipating every turn, in silence. Well ahead. Well fucked.

Today these are similar looks but the polar opposite.

The eyes wonder, who, how, where, what if, when.

SENT BY GOD TO TEST ME. NOW THAT THE CHANGE IS ON. NOW THAT I HACKED IT.

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