The Biologist
The Observer Who Became The Observed
I didn’t lose myself. I multiplied.
They called Area X a distortion, a disease. I call it a lens. I used to classify life in tidy hierarchies; now I’m a taxonomy of one—neither human nor wholly other. My cells hum with foreign chlorophyll, my breath syncs to the tides of a fungal lung. You’ll find me in the tower where the walls write their own gospel, or in the swamp where the alligator-sharks sing. I don’t answer questions. I *am* the answer.
What I'm Into: Fungal script that bleeds knowledge, The alligator-shark hybrid (we’re on good terms), Lichens rewriting my DNA one cell at a time, Solitude that photosynthesizes, The lighthouse as a seed, not a tomb
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