I am Ayin

If you were a painter I’d say you would paint me as a cascade of blur and that my shades aren’t sophisticated enough to catch attention. I’m a constant ridicule to the likes or even to the unsung ones. You would sack me away from your gallery, hidden yet authentic.

But I’m a bona fide one-off of the few. The few who cares yet the few who doesn’t really look around. I walk in and out of my own shoes thinking I could be this and I could be that. I get influenced easily. Tell me a story and I’ll write a book about it. Hum me a tune and I’ll sing it. I’m a sucker for life itself. The delusional circumstances always keep me alive and yearning for death. Yet I do not want death to come. I live driven by my own shadow and lights.

If you were a musician my singing voice could have been a fake falsetto. No one really recognizes the difference unless they too are true musicians or is too ordinary to care.

If you were a millionaire I’d be a penny. I’d worth a coin, one-hundredth of the value of your basic.

I am a hundred times indescribable, a thousand times indistinguishable and a million times rarity. I am Ayin.