Out of my solitude came my social disposition.
Out of my darkness arose the laughter of the others.
Out of my despair were beautiful poems formed.
Out of my story they picked the details to make a picture.
The picture followed me like an undesired shadow.
The farther I pushed it back, the more rigid it became.
I made so much light around me that no shadows could be shaped.
I now live inside a sun, black and hollow in its core.