Microscope

Whenever I look into a microscope, I feel I'm looking inside of something. A barrier seems to have been broken; the surface of an eye, the limits of a body. Underneath the microscope, on the stage, everything is either wet or dead, dry-mounted.

Maybe because I look so often at my own blood, or cells scraped from the inside of my mouth, I feel that whenever I am look at something through a microscope I am looking into my own body. And the longer I look, the more I indulge my curiosity, my thirst for physiological detail, the more damage I am doing.