What I am is a mystery—of others not to speak. Who to be is the question. We are a variety of things, so many that our conscious faculty of attention could not complete the task of its question in any absolute sense. How could it? Why should it? Is that what it should serve, what it could serve, in the demands of our living? I am a writer, yes—sometimes…
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Shimmers of Being to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.