Stripped down and standardized, a commercial recollection of the true meaning of self. What identity can I offer you from such a great distance that would not pale in comparison to the up close visions seen only through my own eyes? What truth can be spoken of through the bars of a human cage?
What?
In the effortless and tiny motions of keys beneath fingertips, there is no question of social order
or belonging
to one body or another the interface on the outskirts of my shell no less a part of me than the skin of my face.
What?
Who am I?
Why am I here?
and what can I do to change all that?
What?