this is if only [dot] org

cinderella rockefella

swept like cinderella

in the swirl of the ball, and all its nostalgic silliness, as my friends make their excuses and leave, i look around at the faces of those a decade younger than me, and then to the faces of my peers, and see, perhaps for the first time, not ‘possible-lives’ but ‘other-lives’, as if moving from a reimann-space in which parallels do eventually meet, back to the cold, unsympathetic certainties of euclidian existence.