What does it mean to be strange? I’ve felt it, but never felt it as strange. It is a natural occurrence, an action I do not even contemplate. I just do.
Take me to a factory, she says as the wind blows one way, then the other. My shoulders ease into the role of the strange. Comfortability only comes once the silk is between my legs and the air roams around my body, it is then when I decide to let people see what is deemed strange. Entering a different mentality, I'm shifting, but I'm loyal to base character. It is just a temporary stop; I’ll be home soon. As the eyes sink into a kind of comfortable ora, nothing exists once this has taken its course. Turn and face the strange, because the strange is something that allows me to always remain a happy human. Without turning over my past life, the temporary space creates a strange land to recover from living.