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Rated: E · Poetry · Political · #2066938
Made paranoid by silent films from the 1920s I looked out/at my window differently.

The light inside my room was unable to illuminate the darkness outside due to a thin glass membrane.

The pane blurred the image of what was in inside my room while at the same time obscuring the outside world making it nearly impossible to understand.

What I could verify of the outside world I could resolve only in disconnected fragments.

What I understood of the world around me looked nothing like the blurred image.

First I feared the exterior for its unknown.

Second I feared the interior for all that I could not perceive.

Soon I feared only the image in the pane

Finally I feared only the pane itself.

But which is my enemy when I can trust none of them?

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