29 09 2010

Hair –hideous, oily, rough, frizzy, tentacles of the self. Thousands fall and tremble unnoticed, as thoughts of vanity fly underneath this basin of logic. Inside the follicle lies the folly of ourselves—DNA spirals trapped inside protein protected strands. If the follicles could communicate what would they say? Would they revolt against the logic binding them to the scalp? Would these colonies of hair organize and declare autonomy living like lichen in our living room floors laughing at the nakedness of its old host? Do we owe the patterns of DNA our attention and gratitude despite their grip on our personality? When we pull back our hair are we subconsciously pulling on reins that control who we are? Can we alter the course our DNA will lead us?




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