It takes two.
I was always envious of twins as a kid. I assumed that a fraternal double would offer me a much needed ally in navigating the turbulent chocolate-milk swamp of year four. I had a brother, but I’d come to the conclusion that he was a dud (I’d asked my parents to try for another kid to no avail.) What I needed was a familial facsimile. A replica boy with shared interests and a wariness of birds. This doubleness seemed to be a more emotionally efficient way of being, a duo could water down the terrifying parts (birds) and consolidate strengths. No real nine-year-old could recognise the narcissistic nature of the desire; it was an undeniable fact that my world needed two of me. It was an incessant want I felt deep in my calcium.
I have too short of an attention span to ever really dissect complex themes or sustain extended periods of actual real quality thinking — but here I go. I posit that (perhaps) the great conveyor belt of life rolls things out in pairs (maybe) on parallel lines. The very crux of our lives may be built on this efficient manufacturing technique. From the very beginning at the moment of our damp conception, cells split and split again, until we’re a composite of doubles. Two lungs, two nipples, two big toes, two kidneys, two gonads, two front teeth. And then as an added reminder, there’s a crimped pink seam that runs through us all. A memento that we’re mostly a meaty half-half, two human-ham hemispheres double-yolking.
It’s this symmetry that feels simultaneously comforting and inescapable (like peeing in the bath.Too much. Probs too much.) There’s a boom-tish call and response that pervasively pulses through everything. So much so that we find ourselves actively identifying, collecting and creating pairs. It’s no surprise that there’s a crushed beer can in Paris that is countered by a fraternal opposite in Cannington; an olive tarpaulin ineffectively wrapped tight around a busted air-con unit in both the Grenadas; and that the same liver spot constellation splatters the complexion of two seemingly unrelated men. Exciting? Expected? Who knows? The point, simply, is that duplicates are ubiquitous and unrelenting (like the scent of damp clothing in an office.)
In closing; fall in love with a Gemini. Drink double espressos. Experiment with two couple relationships. Work the double-bubble. Be duplicitous. Kiss mirrors. Blink don’t wink.
Shay Colley 2018.