What Changes?

There was that feeling again. The one that suggested she was losing herself. She was another year older and had convinced herself in this past year that such a feeling was absurd.

How could it not be when the person sensing the loss and the person getting lost somewhere were one and the same?

What people meant when they expressed such a sentiment was no longer clear. So, she felt a need for better words to express this sense of loss, this sense that challenged a long held view of her sentient years, that something within us all remained ageless and changeless.

Imprisoned eyes, the truest representatives of this changeless state, were held captive within a cage of flesh and bones. They observed and interpreted a shifting mosaic of impressions, rearranging them one way or another to fit some unfathomable pattern that would make the most sense; eyes remained the same while views changed.

She had lost her favorite views. A dark and solid wall had appeared where something shone, shimmered and beckoned before.

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