you can reject the western canon and still appreciate Oedipus Rex.

dear two, dear four, dear six,

I am thinking about person as part. As identity being a multitude rather than a singularity. I, we, exist in plurality.

I was walking across campus and for a moment I was the only thing and yet not. And thing is important here; it is a choice of diction not laziness, because I don't think I was really human in that moment, not in the way we define it commonly. The other students were quieted, the tour groups silenced, the droning of a city suddenly overwhelmed utterly by the dim buzz of the cicadas that seemed outside.

Outside of the stone walls and the air of old wealth and the lights that stay on for all hours of the day. There was this sudden tremor through my lungs, a visceral shock. I am not sure how to quantify the feeling of the moment, the way the leaves looked differently somehow, as if I was learning (not relearning, as that implies that this was somehow a repetition and not an entirely new experience) how to see. And when the wind began to rustle, I wasn't seeing the leaves move, I was feeling them. And the subdued chirping of birds was coming from my throat. And the ground was moving with me rather than I moving over it.

The world was equal, for just a moment, for three hundred feet at best. And my sickness (temporary, the illness that spreads through college campuses just as fast as in preschools) stopped, my hearing no longer restricted by clogged sinuses. Everything was clear. Then I passed through a gate, and down some stairs, and the moment passed like a connection slowly dying until, at last, it was severed.