The body keeps us artificially indistinct. For a moment I forget that I am not you. Beginning with the way the eyes upon you change your skin. I watch your skin, the liquid in your eyes, the softness you allow around you. I follow my own limbs, your limbs, the motion as you flex and keepsake how intention melds with what is felt and seen. A field of mercy spontaneously appears. I resist the urge to sever history from what appears to mean the quiet and revealing now.
Pale Male
He speaks into video microphone as though it were a nest of mirrors. Throughout his engineering presentation, he drops names, while whining that he cannot make his way through the bureaucracy. At some point midway through this keynote he says, "standard of deviation" as though this phrase existed. I think he may have absorbed some concepts that morphed into misnomers from a colleague enrolled in statistics classes. A pale male, our keynoter might have passed these classes, but his insecurity keeps showing. He declares he wants to make change. Clearly no one has handed him a bill.
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