Veils.

We all wear them.

Some over our skin. Some over our mind.

Some flaunt them. Some hide them.

Some pretend to others they aren’t wearing any. Others take it one step further and pretend to themselves.

Some wear them thinking they are a one sided window. Which lets them see the world with all its chaos and imperfections while leaving them obscured from a scrutinous gaze at all times.

Sometimes veils are inverted upon veils.

To prevent you from looking inside.

Like the glitzy airport building built in yourself built specifically to hide the shanties and the slums, the glass carefully curated to reflect only the grey sky above from whichever angle you see.

The others can only see the glitzy building with admiring eyes and you can only see the sky. Oh an architectural marvel.

A slumless mind. Oh so clear oh so beautiful. Ever fresh, ever neat, twinkling with stars on a moonless night.

And some of us feel naked without the veil. Because it has been ages since we took it off. There used to be times when we felt nakedness would be arousing to the other.

Now we laugh at the thought.

But our laughter is soundless. Our eyes are steady. It isn’t a clear night.

That’s how dices roll.

For who can love the slums anyway? Who can live in a dungeon? Matters not that the building with the glass facade is just another dungeon.

When you wear a veil long enough, it feels like skin.

 

 

 

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