Space is black, cold and deep. I wonder what’s out there. Do I have a cosmic twin? What is her world like? Is she a bookworm, surfer or international super spy? Does she have green skin, or blue skin? Or does she have skin at all? I would like to think she does. It would be disturbing to know that my other self is a slimy pile of gelatinous goo. Maybe she works in a Library, quietly putting books away with her 4 arms. Or maybe she is a teacher screaming at little children who resemble a cross between chickens and a three-legged goat. Or, it could be they broke the mold with me and the universe is safe that I am stuck here on Earth.

J. Davies

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