maelynslavik

My hand lingers on the door frame, atoms of space between my fingertips and the shiny wood. My eyes skim the room from side to side, window to window. It’s small but it feels big at the same time.

Everyone carries a little bag full of marbles,

But I didn’t get one.

I have to carry them myself,

And I managed to,

until I realized something,

This is hard to do.

Most people don’t notice

what to do when everything that makes us human-

art, music, creation-

is copied, stolen, created by non-human, non-living ai

what will we do?

when our very expression is being taken away from us