• Vol. 09
  • Chapter 11
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I once read that within each of us is another, impossible to know. Like an embryonic twin absorbed by a bigger stronger sibling in the womb, embodied in the end by becoming in some way the surviving, full-term child. She visits us in dreams, this unknowable other, and shows us the truths of ourselves―the slick, black bellies of the old grey rocks unturned in the mud of puddles―but when did it become so very hard indeed to see with our eyes wide open?