Prisoner? The world is large. You’re only a prisoner of your own fears. If you don’t like it in the prison of your fears, go somewhere else. Or stay there if you need to. But don’t blame me. You obviously expect me to be your solution, as if I were an arcane number of some sort by which you were neatly divisible. Why do you think anybody could be that for you? Why do you think anybody could be that for anybody? I’m not someone who falls short of me – I’m me. I’m not a magic number, I’m just some biped. Look, maybe my soul really is dust, but I mean prisoner?
From Your Duck Is My Duck: Stories (21)
Ecco, 2018
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Labyrinth Literature 