“Hold your venomDo you recognise the instinctin me, fellow scorpion?”

“It is just my imagination that flies,While she is wrapped up in her bedsheetslike a nest.”

“I fix the cramped, lined pageswith my curious stare. How do youcome to exist?”

“If onlyyou could have witnessed howmuch I have changed: sit alonein a disused theatre and feel whatI have felt, see how the world hastransformed me, like the metamorphosisof a caterpillar.”

“Hold your venomDo you recognise the instinctin me, fellow scorpion?”

“We wrote our names in the sandYou crossed mine out: I can't getback to the way I was.”