Unhinged in the city

‘Hello reader’ I write on my mirror.

Sometimes, still holding the marker, I read these words and smirk.

At other times, I look through the communique, and it is the verbose mess that I see. Like slices of some self, a semblance of this self, I see some defined whole.

A reflection, projected.

Like this self I call myself.

Myself, unhinged.


– J

About Ossington

I often think but seldom share these thoughts. And if the product of my thinking is to affect anything but my own sense of satisfaction, then surely it must be shared. Here you may try to know what I believe to know.
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