He realized suddenly that it was one thing to see the past occupying the present, but the true test of prescience was to see the past in the future.

What I am is a heretic who’s recanted, and thereby in everyone’s eyes saved his soul. Everyone’s eyes but one, who knows deep down inside that all he has saved is his skin.

I shall move north. I shall move into a long blackness. I see myself as a shadow, neither man nor woman, Neither woman, happy to be like a man, nor a man Blunt and flat enough to feel no lack. I feel a lack. I hold my fingers up, ten white pickets. See, the darkness is leaking from the cracks. I cannot contain it. I cannot contain my life.

Written By Joseph Addison

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