i have always thought these blinds were an indemnity. i have always opened letters with a knife and wondered if the sun would one day stop leaving kisses in my letterbox. i admit i do miss warm embraces. i yearn to wind up the blinds for i've gotten tired of dancing with dusts, with what little lights that creep in and muffled voices as accompany. these mannequins won't speak and i've had enough of playing hopscotch by the stairwells. after all, how clean is the water from the well these days? if sonatas could lull me to sleep, i want to feel safe in the sound of a person's voice again. i want to know that my touch is not lethal, but electric. i want to know that the machines on these roads won't ****. i want to know that my footprints are not stains. i want to know that living in my own skin was never a sin. i am not a sinner.