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.
Ooh, not quite where I thought it was going, and that's a good thing. 'Wrong in our we-ness'; not such a good thing. This story multiplied its meaning at the same rate as the cells but is more than welcome.ReplyDelete
Great stuff, Rachael. You're educating me here. Thank goodness for google!ReplyDelete
Ooft - that's fabulous. Well done.ReplyDelete