Anon
It’s strange to walk into a place and see someone whose words you know, whom you follow in a strictly world 2.0 way.
It makes you hesitant.
Then you consider all the things you put out there, all the soul-emptying smudge of language on the pristine pixels, the things you would never, ever say to someone in a voice out loud that makes it too real, too immediate, the vibration of timbre in the bones of the ear that are like drumming words, marking them forever in a direct connection to the brain.
No. You would never let someone see this part of you that you don’t look like at all, this person you are inside. You would remain a persona forever, rather than a person.
But…there he is. And here I am. And it’s nod, avert eyes, and pretend we are anonymous still.
