I am one shy, little monkey.
I am one :: "About me: " Why must you torment me so with your riddles?! For whom is it you, m'questioner, m'executioner, wish to speak to? A being-in-the-internet will never coincide with a being-in-the-world. I suppose my questioner, my executioner, wishes to gloss over such details. Very well. We shall insist upon this rule: I am one.
Shy ::
I live in a circus, a prison, a hospital, a dark closet, or any other place of the imagination where we lock up our menageries. Above me hangs a sign that reads, "Sweet-Demon-Child Paralyzed by Self-Conscious Equivocation -- Two Pence." Often I can be found cowering in corners, and I've developed a nasty hunchback from avoiding eye contact on busy streets. Perhaps this playground will be therapeutic, or perhaps it is nothing more than an invitation to indulge in mauvaise foi. Are we here cultivating that which never should have sprouted?
Little Monkey ::
The shy must always reconcile themselves with little monkeys. Unfortunately my monkey, like Mr. Hyde, is a dwarf. Despite considerable care, he has struggled to grow in such pious conditions. Fortunately you are here. What myriad pleasures we will have, lovely reader. Remove your hood and come closer, gentle one. I've spent a fortnight thinking of you; I have nails I'd like to sink into your breast.
