Ctrl+Z. Ctrl+Me.

"Just living is not enough", said the butterfly, "one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower."
— Hans Christian Andersen.

just to stay awake in conversation.

"Like all dreamers, I mistook disenchantment for truth"

- Jean-Paul Satre


Ever wondered what if felt like to fade in and fade out.


Walking through the miniature museum, the curiosity sparkling greater with each exhibit until this one stop. The precision in the selection of exhibition to stop at and take a closer look.

During the interval of exploration, examining the specificity of each and every corner of it. Noticing the parts that shine and the parts that were discoloured, that thing of beauty - it was a collectible.

The temptation to pocket it and walk off -
it was almost too great to inhibit.

The irony of exhibitionist inhibition as it ended up inside the pocket anyway.

Moving off to the next stations casually, skirting past all other exhibits which did not seem to sparkle or incite any interest, the exit was just a few steps away.

The approach towards the exit hastened, as all interest in the exhibition was too far gone. The treasure was already in the pocket, and the temptation to indulge in it was way beyond self-control.

With hastened speed-walking, the climb to the summit of the hill felt like a flash - as though a song was being played at an increased speed. Not too long later, it was almost negligible that the sun had set.

Taking out the treasured acquisition, it was a perfect fit in the hand. The miniature looking glass - the eye for detail.

The perspective the looking glass was able to provide - subjective to the angle, direction, the handling.

How could something so small require so much precision in control - almost as much as an automobile. Perhaps like a car - fitted with the ideal v8 engine, shaded body kit, almost-perfect tuning, worn out tires from the endless drag races - where everything seemed so grand and majestic, with only one thing missing.

The brake system was a wreck.


There was no turning back.

Looking through the miniature looking glass, the concave perfection in the glass and the forgotten hollowness in the middle, the eye was hooked onto it.

Using the miniature looking glass, the other eye was kept shut. All focus on the eye looking into the miniature looking glass. The forgotten responsibilities, the muscle strain, the insanity that came along with it - there was no way to return back to its original state.

There was no way to reinstate anything - or perhaps there wasn't even a reason to.



Black. White.

Zebra. Crossing.




so how could we know for sure.


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