by Joanna D.
In a dream. Altered reality. Not even the stars have the same face. Private constellations. Perhaps the cosmos won’t collide with the earth’s atmosphere in the same way. Falling stars to peacock feathers. Perhaps all is orchestrated sideways, upside-down, on its side, images of instance; presented by a double-sided mirror while the puppeteers watch, waiting to see the comedy – the tragedy – the beauty of this parallel in the face of its participants.
Just as moving as “Ma”. Beautiful wiritings.