Those things that make you a being separate from the rest of the world.
Outlines that create.
Delineations that shape.
The defined space of a person.
Those edges will start to blur and fade.
The outside leaks in.
Opinions and questions and words and space.
All foreign. For a time.
Until there's no way to differentiate.
And the other has become you.
So really, who the fuck am I any more?
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* A Woman in Science