...but the tale itself is a trickster and doesn't hesitate to lie. It is anachronistic with a vengeance. It emerges always and everywhere, overt or disguised, pureblood or hybrid, and healthy as sin.

No," she cried, "no, no, I'm not a harem, I'm not a woman, I'm not a person, no.

So she listened hard. And she began to evolve, because stories work their magic that way. They build conviction and erode conviction in equal measure.

Okay let's get this over with, no I'm not seasick, yes I've always been green, No I didn't eat grass as a child.

And a puzzle is for the piecing together, especially for the young, who still believe it can be done.

quoting reminds me there are other people in the world besides only me. And other thoughts besides mine, and other ways of thinking.

The further on we go, the more meaning there is, but the less articulable. You live your life and the older you get- the more specifically you harvest- the more precious becomes every ounce and spasm. Your life and times don’t drain of meaning because they become more contradictory, ornamented by paradox, inexplicable. The less explicable, the more meaning. The less like a mathematics equation (a sum game); the more like music (significant secret).