A time to idle...
I wrote a series of essays on being, reality and perception. Nothing fancy, as usual, just a few loose personal opinions joined up to open the discussion.
It all started with Calderon de la Barca, the final, famous quote about life being a dream...
Which put me in mind of "The Dark Half" and shadows chasing shadows, a circle of mirages.
Am I real? I'd dare say: "very much so". Are you, Constant Reader (to use King's term)? I'd also say "yes", an emphatic one.
The question is: is the "me" you read the "me" I take myself to be? A rethorical question, if there ever was one.
Who "I" am is who I always were, and yet... We change somewhat. It doesn't take a genius to see.
A sorely missed friend once said (I don't remember whether she was quoting) that to look at oneself is to confront a set of parallel mirrors with infinite reflections.
Am I a fictional character in your imaginings? Are you so in mine? I dare say yes, but only in part.
On recently meeting a friend I didn't see in ten years, it dawns. There's plenty of us in ourselves to permit perfect recognition.
The gone years are simply ticks of the clock...
Just that.
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