For the longest time there was only the song. It grew and soared and convoluted until it split into song and singer, and from there into song and singers and sky and sea. The winds blew and the lions roared and the birds chirped and the stars span and it was all part of the song and it was perfect. And then.

There was the first woman. The first man. The first generation of humanity. They named the sparrow, the eagle, the bear, the apple, and themselves – they constrained the song. But they were still part of the song and the song was still perfect.

And then there was the first lie. The first liar. His name was—

His name doesn’t matter. He wanted a woman – not just to sleep with her: he wanted to own her, he wanted no other woman or man to have her, he wanted a claim on her life. On her thoughts, even. He wanted this because he thought she was beautiful (as she was); he wanted that beauty for himself, and no-one else.

‘I love you,’ he said. And there and then sounded the first discordant note in the song of life; and there and then was forged the very first link in the very first chain.


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