Egocarib

What's this have to do with the {{favilink|bio-scanning bracelet}} malady of the mimic? To answer that, we must {{favilink|black robes}} deconstruct the malady. Let's ask: what is it to be a mimic, to appear as a thing but feel like another? Essentially it's a phenomenon of semantic distance, a sensation of the space between what we perceive in others {{favilink|portable beehive}} and what we perceive about ourselves. We've constructed a representation of what, in the case of my friend, a proper artist and typographer looks like. Why do we have such trouble squaring that representation with our own image? The answer lies in the richness of our self-perception. We see ourselves in stereo, our wire armature plied {{favilink|crimson hood}} by our experiences, our self-image formed by rotating it about {{favilink|box of crayons}} the axis of time. What we call 'artist' or 'typographer' is just a jumbled mess of wire, an unfamiliar pattern we give a name to in absence of the context of life's motion. Were we to see our peers in rotation, gain perspective on their doubts, their fears, their pain, the jumbled mess of a pattern would disappear into the familiar form of a person. And conversely, had we the capacity to freeze our own motion, to see ourselves absent of the {{favilink|Caslainard}} context of our doubt, fear, and pain, we'd see an artist and a {{favilink|crime and punishment}} typographer just the same.