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  • Writer's pictureWellington Lambert

My well-fed fat face



Reflection

If we are a different version of ourselves to everyone we know, is there a version of me I would like more than the one I see of myself? Is there a me out there through some else’s eyes that has loved without fear, spoke the truth, understood…anything?

I would like to meet him.

I am a ghost of that person. An opaque vision that confuses lack of clarity with living. A shape that moves but does not go anywhere.

I am learning to edit my reflection, bounce the light just so. Telling my roots to grow, then let go.

The only true moment of being that exists for me is the changing uncertainty of who, or what I am.

We are all frames of a moving film that expresses choices made one brief second to the next. Showing a movie that is not our own. We are the fluidity inside these movements, briefly tasting the flavors of material existence.

So, I guess, who you see when you look at me is a character of your own making, as I am of my own reflection.

The show must go on.

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