The thought potion.

It is so unsatisfying to have a free view of things and people. You sense that everything is grey and yet you keep on searching for that perfect black or the perfect white. Like there is a lone wolf wandering among the greens to find the pack where each and every wolf likes to move around alone.

It becomes so confusing.

The very idea rips you apart into two forms, one bearing a halo and the other with the horns. And you wish they wouldn’t have laughed at you.

Published by A Hopeless Anachronism

Dancer | Reader | Writer | Traveller | Videographer | Researcher | Engineer

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