let me stray. my admiration for myths and legends far exceeds the norm for a modern woman that i am. although i love them just as they are, my inner eyes roam on their own terms. after seeing the view above - bemossed grave and a candle nested in it - their focus fell on Pandora.
the whiteness and openness of this grave candle made them ask: what if the box was another metaphor and Zeus' gift was more like a delicate yet powerful locket? what if the radiance and innocence it held was only labelled a plague to scare off her seeking hands? and after its opening, the brightness embracing the whole world made it bare. showed a distinction, like another story's apple.
this light made all the twisted things existing obvious in their wicked forms. they were many a number and the human could not bear the view, the weight of their own guilt and the labour to make everything right. but there she stood, the one who brought the contrast, the lucent scapegoat.
have you called her names, too?
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