My shadow is velvet and split into three, by three different light sources. I cannot indicate what these lightsources are. Not yet. Each shadow stretches from me, bending to the cliff two paces from my feet. Two paces from a fall. I am not cold from the breeze, nor am I warm from the sun, (the sun is not part of the three lightsources). I once read of a numb woman, she bore no reactions to good and bad things alike. She had only one goal. To die privately. It is an ambitious goal for a poor woman with barely any money. Soon, she will die, surrounded by children that don't belong to anyone. Orphans. Bastards. We will realize she is one too. She is a part of my third shadow. The part that mirrors my right leg. I will be stuck where I think I do not belong, but the universe will throw me in quicksand. I will have to severe this leg, severe that shadow.
