Man Wakes Up As Words on The Page of a Book
When he went to bed, he had two “I”s and one “A”. He woke up feeling different, flatter, with more parts, more spaces. At least 200 “I”s and 140 “A”s. Full of meaning but unable to say anything. To truly have a meaning, an unambiguous one, was a dream, but he couldn’t express it. He laid there sandwiched between a hundred blankets on either side, waiting for what seemed like all eternity for someone to peel those blankets off and gaze upon him. To see all of his figures. And, perhaps, to inspect them to see their individual meanings as well as their collective meaning. But, days and weeks and years go by without a gaze. What is meaning unpercieved? What is a story unheard? The man felt more and more arbitrary.
“I felt like I might as well just be a random sequence of letters,” he said. “What’s the point in being a carefully chosen sequence of letters if nobody bothers to read them?”
That’s the ultimate question, isn’t it. What’s the point in taking any logical path through life if nobody is watching. Why not just roll a dice at every decision. Why not just take a random walk through the realm of possibilities. Ei efoik weunvnd wefwrgmr erogimmd wefof fewmwefowefnerugqm kldxkiwejfmc.
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