On the couch at green st

there’s a butterfly thats retreating into its cocoon and there's a chicken thats going back into its egg. both of them are next to each other, thinking “its scary out there.”

they’re scared of their own lives and wanting to retreat what they used to be. the two feel the same, yet cannot ever know each others lives. a butterfly and a chicken, two species with lives so different and all the same experience the same fear.

once upon a time there were ways of living the life of other humans by simply looking at them. with that look and the right intention the observer could become the observed, inhabiting them while the occupied person continued on living their life. this came at a cost to the observer, each day in another body would necessarily be one less day living their own life. the practice died out when it occured to humanity that there is no better experience in life than to live one’s own. to have two people living identical lives was awful.