Without going into the details (I will leave that to your imagination), it was a Jorge Luis Borges kind of day yesterday...
"Let us admit what all idealists admit: the hallucinatory nature of the world."
And...
And...
"Death (or its illusion) makes men precious and pathetic. They are moving because of their phantom condition; every act they execute may be their last, there is not a face that is not on the verge of dissolving like a face in a dream. Everything among the mortals has the value of the irretrievable and the perilous."
Centuries of centuries, and only in the present do things happen; countless men in the air, on the face of the earth and the sea, and all that really is happening is happening to me....
