The Illimitable Exhibitionist
“What is there that really remains of me? Each and every one of my spent memories was a single seed that grew from my rare substance, destined to depart, land, germinate and sprout into it’s very own deliciously mysterious form. Although I retain a semblance of independent life, it will not be too long before very little of the original me will be left. My former resemblance will be a rumour and my essence will abide instead in a multiplicity of branches, upon which a little bird will rest and preen it’s plumage. A soft and steady wind will caress my crown of upward-reaching extremities, shaking their placid ornamentation of crisp leaves. I am hanging on a wall, fixed and admirable, yet my promiscuous secondary growth ensures that my half-remembered fragments of self will continue to thrive elsewhere in arches, curls, tentacles and swirls. I am thus liberated, unframed, observing and deserving.”