All this deconstructing and reconstructing signaled an impending collapse,
and after a while, the whole thing became boring, and tedious, and a huge
energy drain, and for what? At the end of the day, what makes a trash and
what makes a treasure? It seems like all things go to the same realm as
hair clippings, bits of nail, rubbed off skin on the floor, tar: the
abstract maze you made out of all the things you were living with, that
poured you out of the world, and into the darkness. And what’s the
difference between walls and darkness, what does it matter what’s beyond
them when there’s no way out of here? I think about escape, always. I think
about a time when I felt I was always on my way.
Excerpt from Maze in 4 Voices
written by Kim-Anh Schreiber for You’re Fierce. You’re Perfect. You Slay.