Stacking

Dear Society,

Is it just these people I’m outside of, or is it everyone?

You raise us as islands and teach us to see ourselves as individuals, separated from the rest of the world. You isolate us in little compartments, stacked close together in big buildings, but separated so completely as if existing in different dimensions. We live on controllable islands of sameness in an ocean of otherness.

But you’re forgetting that there is no word for the difference between me and the world.

Or am “I” that word?

Doubtfully, The Introvert

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Stack of concrete compartments

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Stack of velvet compartments

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Group of cages/city scape

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Stacking compartments close together

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Insulating or isolating?

Dear Container,

Where you ever empty? Who filled you with me? Somebody claimed your space and filled you with their own content, that’s how I got here. These borders that surround me are your definition and my division from the outside. Why do I let you? You insulate me and protect me against unwanted influences. I worry about, and long for the isolation you promise to give me. But can you really? Nothing ever happens in a vacuum. What is it then we’re shutting in and shutting out – to make something or someone into an island?

I am documented and filed, so I really do exist. But where you ever empty before me?

Always wondering, The Contained

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Iron fabric and branch.

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Red velvet and branch.