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while through the ice the crimson berries glow

Ciara's space

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I like finding shapes in clouds.

I anthropomorphize everything around me. I wonder a lot about whether food wants to be eaten because then it can take pride in being tasty, or whether it fears being eaten as being the equivalent of death.

When I was a kid and I used to play Super Mario Bros. 2, I always played as the Princess, even in levels where you had to pull up a lot of weeds. This was partly because I liked her pink dress and tiara, but partly, too, because I was entranced by the idea of being able to fly, no matter how short the distances.

I'm a married lesbian and it suits me very well.

I type 105 words a minute.

My dreams are full of water.

I think of life as a set of funhouse mirrors and most of what I do consists of trying to position myself so what you see are the least grotesque reflections of me. I don't know that much about the person who is standing in front of the mirrors and creating the reflections. I do know that she's clumsy, with a tendency to stumble over words, social conventions, and low-standing ottomans; it only seems to make sense to focus on manipulating her reflection instead.

I can be almost anybody you want me to be. Thing is, though, I probably won't.