Ideas come and then they are lost.
Hesitation kills it. Words and thoughts, fade. One about a dark box in
which inside is complete blackness. I am in it. There is this vague
understanding that, my being in this box has no timetable and that there was no
beginning to life in that box. I’m just moving around. Idea number two relates
to the box but it is escaping me, too much time between the idea and now.
Something to the effect that as a child grows into adulthood, there is no
awareness of becoming the adult but one day, you just realize that somehow
someway you have transformed into a man, whether you like it or not.
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