These sentences glimmering in the wake of some live thing, they stand out against the dark. I’m often moved to copy them down in my own hand, for pleasure of inching forward like a snail, one word then another, then all of them lying together in a line, shimmering with bioluminescence.
Here’s one. It’d existed for nearly a century but I hadn’t become aware of it until yesterday. There is another world, but it is in this one. Simple, resonant, secreted by which creature and for what reason? Studying it more closely, I might infer a few humble details about why it would leave this particular trail behind it. Once I had determined those, I might add to my own storehouse of intuitions about that very question, For what reason?
I read it, wrote it out, threaded it through my nervous system. There. Now it was no longer something outside of me. Now it was part of me and as a result slightly changed. Re-reading it I even appreciated a slight error created by the transcription. There is another world, but it is this one. This version was better, I decided. This made more sense to me. And very much in the spirit of nature, since evolution discovers improvements on pre-existing designs not through planning but through accident.
If skulls are shells and consciousness is the snail, different and similar each iteration, it only goes to prove: the world we’re born from is other than the one we’re living.
Here’s one. It’d existed for nearly a century but I hadn’t become aware of it until yesterday. There is another world, but it is in this one. Simple, resonant, secreted by which creature and for what reason? Studying it more closely, I might infer a few humble details about why it would leave this particular trail behind it. Once I had determined those, I might add to my own storehouse of intuitions about that very question, For what reason?
I read it, wrote it out, threaded it through my nervous system. There. Now it was no longer something outside of me. Now it was part of me and as a result slightly changed. Re-reading it I even appreciated a slight error created by the transcription. There is another world, but it is this one. This version was better, I decided. This made more sense to me. And very much in the spirit of nature, since evolution discovers improvements on pre-existing designs not through planning but through accident.
If skulls are shells and consciousness is the snail, different and similar each iteration, it only goes to prove: the world we’re born from is other than the one we’re living.
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