SourceThe Other one, the one called Zena is the one things never happen to/happen to. She is the one I walk through the day and stop for a moment, and stare at the reflection, not recognizing. The one who goes through the motions of the day. I know Zena from old pictures and stories recounted from old acquaintances and family. The one with the name attached to countless books and tales. I like books, the prose of Soyinka, the pull of Sade's voice, the pretty things. She shares this with me, but in a more passionate way, the way I can never openly do. It would be a fallacy to say there isn't tension or hostility. I live, walk as life passes me by, while Zena fights for her freedom.
It is shameful to confess she has achieved nothing. Words from people rather than us cannot change what is. I've contemplated the idea of letting her out, of giving everything to her, even though she might ruffle a few feathers and complicate things.
Alas! I might remain in Zena, it is sad though...I recognize this one less and less. I do not know which one of us has written this, Zena or I.
