What is this? A self.
I have been so many for so long. A tender of a flock that was the flock himself, and yet the shepherd. But this: a self? After such time that time itself is meaningless? I tell myself that I am Abacus Jones now. He was. He yet is, for now. I am. We? Certainly I have been a “we” for an eternity, so I can be two. We are two that is one. We are Abacus Jones now. Continue reading