Introductions

In a world of body language and missing words, are introductions necessary? Do you even need my name to know what I believe? A picture of my face, perhaps, to enlighten you further.

If I were to stand in front of you and recite these words, would you feel at ease? Knowing the colour of my skin, the style of my hair and tone of my voice, you would make your own decisions of me. There are no faces behind computer screens, only introductions. Introductions for the purpose of vanity and preening, kidnapping and murder.

Behind the faceless screen, who is it that watches you? Who are you and who am I?
I have gone by many names in my lifetime - some bad, some good. All of them were different, but all of them were me. From the Egyptian murderess to the literary genius to the child who believed fairy tales were real - they shaped a greater entity, making the world a happier place. When hostility reigned I became a contemptuous fiend by the name of Nsikhonsou. During times of deep enlightenment I was a silent mastermind named Olivia. During the course of my life, I have never worn the same face twice; even if you saw me, would you know who smiled back? If I showed myself to you, whose name would I bear?

A woman’s job is to find her feet against the blows of the world; just like the geishas of old who learned to walk and dance on blocks of solid wood. We paint our faces and hide away every facet of what we are. Our beauty is our shame, hidden behind a toy box of lingering perfumes.

It is from this toxic reverie that I found my name; a nod in the direction of Sayuri, the geisha queen, a Queen whose palace was filled with masks and fans. A woman like me, whose true face lay forgotten behind a multitude of shells.

After hearing these words, are you even sure was me that said them; who was it that heard?