I

I am interested in the "I".
Any "I",
              your "I",
my "I"
their "I"
anybody's
eye
because I think, it is only in its uniqueness
where the common exists,
if so.

All the details, all its vagueness, all the corners of its labyrinthic existence,
that is where I may find myself,
where you may find myself,
that is were the "I" that is "we" may suddenly appear,
but if not,
at least we will leave having heard a more
or less good story.
The story of the eye.
The eye that looked in the "I"
and saw a lie.

And told its eye for another "I".
The story of the "I".
The only that ever existed.