In another universe, perhaps the inverse of this very one, my name would be Gwen. Not Gwendolyn, simply, Gwen. Is she your local witch, or she simply found that earth tones are hers to keep. That bohemian muse for which I seek out of a place that has long snuffed out any trace of panoramic prosperity. As I to, must respect the title that was gifted to me by my mother, father, and Lord, so be it. I am Sydney in this timeline, maybe Gwen the next, perhaps Daphne in another. Hence, my soul never changes.

Prose poetry, poetic prose, déjà vu. Something to share, silence is deafening.