This is how the yolk makes itself know. Entering the world, foreign like. The stares around the egg body birth a similar feeling to handshake that is to firm, or one being caught right in the middle of a lie. It’s particularly uncomfortable ,and unwavering. Hey, black yolk. The way it feels, smells, is familiar. The shell cannot contain what is inside forever. Eventually it will break through and spill out. Matter. Quasi-shadow in origin. Thin and peeking through walls and walls and walls.

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