I am the shadow of another, another is my shadow.
A culture is another culture’s nemesis and that culture is itself a fiend.
A civilization sings its own heroes’ praises and they are lifted up on the shoulders of those who would have seen them fall…
I turn quickly to catch my shadow and it is no longer there. I spin on my heels and again… but day… my shadow gone again. I jump, sit still for hours, gaze into the mirror of another’s eyes… dark significant eyes.
I see myself, I see this other… Do I see the shadow? No!
Woman is devil and the son of God is the essence of light itself… holy… How convenient!
The crucified woman could be the stigmata on the hands of Christ. Logos and Passion… partners, companions in this shadow play.
Embrace the shadow through the self. Protect the nemesis without while knowing the enemy within.
Protect the scapegoat, object of contempt, the feeble voice. The shadow victim of the boisterous, the inquisitor, the self‐proclaimed and sanctioned vehicle of right… loudly affirming his ascendancy over imagined worlds.
A play of shadows.