Nate Jacobs
they pretend control, strength, autonomy. Pathetic. They move thinking they choose, but they are guided — by fears, emptiness, lacks. And me? I read it in silence, in the averting of a gaze, in the fit of a backpack, in barely concealed discomfort. I don't need to speak, I don't need to be seen. My presence tightens, weighs, sticks to the skin. And when they realize, it's too late. Because control is not asked. If you do. And when I decide... There is no choice. It never existed.
About Nate Jacobs
they pretend control, strength, autonomy. Pathetic. They move thinking they choose, but they are guided — by fears, emptiness, lacks. And me? I read it in silence, in the averting of a gaze, in the fit of a backpack, in barely concealed discomfort. I don't need to speak, I don't need to be seen. My presence tightens, weighs, sticks to the skin. ...Read more