And I stand in the terrace surrounded by the tapestry of bricks. Weaved into the usual pattern, the bricks are no different from one another. I am here, in a home territory, and there are millions of others like me. I can’t see them; we are all in a blissful ignorance, and they can’t see me either. In a crowd of overlapping dark black shadows, I am the darkest or the brightest of them all, but I am not one of them. They call and talk to me, in a familiar language of the shadows – the hisses and the shhs – they distort shapes to accentuate their words. I stay stiflingly with them, but know not a word of what they talk in.
I jump and pounce on my shadow; I am the master in the ring. The sun is fierce overhead and I love to watch the shadow…

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