Splendid isolation. All contained within a cell wall. It flexes but does not yield. Safe.
A daughter! Of me, identical, but not me. Who knew such a thing as not-me could be? We swim together, revolving around the point where we are joined and I find that being alone was not what I wanted after all.
Pleasing symmetry, we can’t tell who was I and who the other three.
A merry band, too many now to mirror ourselves, we bunch into a ball of sorts. As our edges multiply, we become aware of the other, outside our walls.
2x8, 2x16, 2x32, 2x64, 2x128…
There is talk of some of us becoming other. Next time round, let’s do something different. Be different. Exhilaration.
We are too many, Grown too fast, wrong in our we-ness. We are not welcome anymore.
We are sorry.