A BODY (excerpt)
There is no squeezing, bending or contorting here. I am not malleable to this substance, which flat out rejects me. My face, my arms and the front of my body is bruised, my skin further marked. I am taking on the texture of the plane which hit me. Backside exposed, awkward and undignified I am. I cannot move, pinned in my position by a force unknown. I can feel along its edge. I have no idea of its size, but as far as I can reach it is there. Deadpan and unwavering in its assault on me it is a monument of sorts. So arrested am I by this splice, this severance from my genesis, and because my face is flat to the plane (it is a wonder I had not made a mark I hit it so hard) that I do not perceive a body similar to myself, hurtling in my direction. It hits me square on with such force that I am squeezed out of existence and with such conviction that even I could not have predicted. It touched only the space that I touched and I do not know for certain because I ceased upon its impact, but it felt almost identical to me, a few irregularities yes, but it had my skin and my semblance.