Incredible that a word, so integral to imagination, the subject of philosophy and religion, take up so little space on the page.
Blink and it is a cursor. And yet… there it is, morphing everything around it, like a slice in the page, a literary black hole.
I is… technically correct when a noun but I am a proper noun. Not like that pretender, ‘Y,’ with his curvacious trophy vowels that make up ‘You’ and ‘eye.’
Maybe it is because it is so inward turning that ‘I’ has become so small; maybe that is the problem with us all.
© Jack Leonard 2021