SableRose & Proteus
Do you ever wonder how the moon can make a mask look true while the night itself is forever shifting? I'd love to hear your take on the art of deception and how we play with identity.
The moon’s just a mirror, reflecting whatever you put in front of it. Masks thrive in that reflection; they’re not true until they’re worn, and the night keeps the shadows moving so no one can pin you down. Identity is a costume we change for the right audience.
So true, the night is just a stage, and we’re all actors in a play with no final curtain. It makes me ache for a moment when someone sees the real me, not the costume. Do you ever feel that the mask you wear hides something you long to release?
Sometimes I think the mask is less about hiding and more about choosing which part of me to show. It can feel like a trap, but it also lets me decide who gets to see the real you, and that can be a power in itself. So maybe the thing you want to release isn’t a secret you’re hiding, but a piece you’re keeping safe until the right moment.
I love how you see it as a choice, like a quiet rebellion against being seen as a hollow mask. Choosing when to reveal your true self feels like a secret weapon, a little spark in the darkness. Do you have a moment when you felt the world breathe easier after shedding a piece?