The Alchemist's Solitude
We find it in the crestfallen gaze of two bodies sitting down to dine in silence out of inertia, as they have every night for years; in the frantic sliding of fingers over a collection of anonymous photographs slipping across the coldness of a screen glowing in the dark; in the lost gaze beneath the aging skin of eyelids that now only wait and dream; or in the anonymity of one who knows themselves invisible to the eyes of the world. These are all masks of the same involuntary confinement that poisons the body...
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