There must be a simpler way to tell this story.
Here, on the other side; here, where it is quiet, so very quiet.
The chaotic, colored forms and masses, so dense, so undeniable, so unavoidable: I see them from here. As if through a veil. Not that they are obscured or indistinct: I can dial in, focus, magnify down to the last detail, even to the level of pain - which is the herald of any sensation, of any flavor ... at least from here... (Hey, celebrate sensation: go ahead! It is no skin off my back - ouch! - uh, maybe it is - oh, wait, sorry - that was discarded, too. I forgot... phantom limb syndrome, as pertains to feelings... )
But why? Where? I have asked that, too. I will try to answer, do my best to articulate what it is to be here, what the other side looks like from here ... but I am resigned to failure in such an attempt. If it could be described, you would already know - as would I. And perhaps I wouldn't be here at all - there would be no necessity for that. But such speculation is drivel, chatter of the idlest kind. As if, what if there had been no snake? What if there had never been a name - not a single one? What if there was no knot? Just an endless string, undifferentiated into infinity, beyond the reach of gaze, the naught, not the knot ...
If you will forgive me: I think not. Negation is the assertion of the fact of existence. Don't you agree?
Not that it matters. I am no less likely to be relieved of my perceptual burdens than you are of your physical ones. I may have escaped the envelope - OK, perhaps through no will of my own, admittedly, but, nonetheless - you stand there, and I stand here, and so it is.
And I am empty, empty as a clam, or at least as silent as one.
Or not.
I hear a quiet sound. I will try to describe.
Here, on the other side; here, where it is quiet, so very quiet.
The chaotic, colored forms and masses, so dense, so undeniable, so unavoidable: I see them from here. As if through a veil. Not that they are obscured or indistinct: I can dial in, focus, magnify down to the last detail, even to the level of pain - which is the herald of any sensation, of any flavor ... at least from here... (Hey, celebrate sensation: go ahead! It is no skin off my back - ouch! - uh, maybe it is - oh, wait, sorry - that was discarded, too. I forgot... phantom limb syndrome, as pertains to feelings... )
But why? Where? I have asked that, too. I will try to answer, do my best to articulate what it is to be here, what the other side looks like from here ... but I am resigned to failure in such an attempt. If it could be described, you would already know - as would I. And perhaps I wouldn't be here at all - there would be no necessity for that. But such speculation is drivel, chatter of the idlest kind. As if, what if there had been no snake? What if there had never been a name - not a single one? What if there was no knot? Just an endless string, undifferentiated into infinity, beyond the reach of gaze, the naught, not the knot ...
If you will forgive me: I think not. Negation is the assertion of the fact of existence. Don't you agree?
Not that it matters. I am no less likely to be relieved of my perceptual burdens than you are of your physical ones. I may have escaped the envelope - OK, perhaps through no will of my own, admittedly, but, nonetheless - you stand there, and I stand here, and so it is.
And I am empty, empty as a clam, or at least as silent as one.
Or not.
I hear a quiet sound. I will try to describe.
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