He asked for the lighter and I thought he was sex, body, skin, one night. He looked at me and he could be future, breakfast, a few years together perhaps. He spoke and he was desire, dominance. He spoke again and I was skin color, a challenge, an old history of otherness. He didnt listen and he was whisky, confidence, oblivion. He looked at me again and he was lust I was race.
Temparodolia describes the misconstruing of perception to temporarily view one thing of similar nature as another. There is a point in which it is one or the other, or both, or neither simultaneously. It is an interference in perception as lines of communication cross.
