Would you believe that I am an illusionist as much as I am fed by illusions? Would you have my powers to discern blindfolded and deluded, then? I have never just begun to realise the dichotomy of my love and loyalties, or the perversion of my spiritedness, the manipulation of my thoughts, words and deeds to suit treachery I have understood in myContinue reading “Don of La Mancha; and the windmills were a watery deluge!: A poem “
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