I’m watching clouds pass across sky. I’ve been here a long time. It occurs to me at this point how unreal all of this is— that there are birds and trees out there, people other than me perceiving this and I have no control of perception. I sink to my knees. I could pray. But I wonder what the motivation behind that is, to get whatever I want. I picture my body in a hundred years time. Sift my hands through dust. How much of it doesn’t matter becomes acutely real. And everything between that, somewhere entirely else. There are people eating their meals. I look at it, and feel I’m looking at a tape recording, played again with mechanical movements. Strange awareness. I remember you telling me about the double slit experiment, the relationship between observer and observed. And I think, of this weirdness. What I see, and what I’m actually seeing.
'The stars about the lovely moon
Fade back and vanish very soon,
When, round and full, her silver face
swims into sight, and lights all space.'
--Sappho
