There is no escaping it, no cupboard deep enough, no mirror without reflection. And even then, if you went through, with it, everything, life, what would you find except the stress and yearning and fears of what you pretended to leave behind?
Writings on an impassable wall
Brick by brick building the same road you didn't want to follow. I chose the weeds breathing through the cracks, the resonance of your walk on the uneven path. Yet, we end up throwing the pavement together. There is one scary monster and it eats allegory for breakfast