– I’m
starting to believe that nothing is real. The very words on this page, simply
the impression of something which cannot be passed on, handed off, or
exchanged-what is left are the signifiers which lead you down a path which is
similar to but not quite the one which led to their creation. I could be wrong.
They could lead you down a completely different path from which you simply
judge the validity and authenticity of these words and what created them,
having no parallel reference point yourself, you can become distanced and
eschew any value you might have given them. These very words are not real. They
are merely a means by which to attempt some connection to reality. But reality
is never constant and thus the words are simply remnants created in a moment
believed to be real. These words will be left of this moment, along with
memories. These memories will not be an etching of the exact moment as it was
lived, nor the click of a shutter as the moment manifested, it will be simply a
pause taken to recollect, culling fragments and remnants and using these to
create a kind of mosaic of something which was real, believed to be real, when
it was lived-now a subjective fictionalization of what was lived. The only
thing that never changes is the fictionalizing, and the inextricably human
belief that these fictions are real.
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