By Ivana Devcic
Oh, this shroud that follows me
Looming beyond reach
I cannot remove it
I cannot look through it
For it obscures me
I walk always in the fog
Lost despairingly on the moor
And I cannot dispose
Of this demon
Who haunts me
Forever more
Usually cleaning that annoying smudge on her glasses. Ivana regularly has existential crises (if they are consistent, can they be called crises?). Typically found with a book in front of my face – a standard sign of an INTJ in their natural habitat. If lost, look near the cats or salted crisps.