Life, streaming on, streaming past, but underneath it the dried out river bed of personality.
Life, milky warm seeming to draw away as it rushes past, as if contained by a thick meniscus, pulling sightly back from the earth like a faint sneer. Underneath it the dragon scale, the flaw that you fear everyone can see, that you fear defines you. A reptilian aridity that repels the liquid flow.
Life, surging in a headlong rush engulfs and swamps, the flood rises and takes over, you are swirled and submerged and changed; you were too near to the bank and are now a thing with no volition, reacting only until beached once more you have time to think and reflect. And retreat.
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