The world becomes an apparently infinite, yet possibly finite, card game. Image combinations, permutations, comprise the world game.

[...] My wild words slip into fusion and risk losing the solid ground. So stranger, get wilder still. Probe the highlands.

Love cannot save you from your own fate.

Let's just say I was testing the bounds of reality...

The subject says: I see first many things which dance... then everything gradually becomes connected.

We are content in the 'given' in sensation's quest. We have been metamorphosised from a mad body dancing on hillsides to a pair of eyes staring in the dark.

The world becomes an apparently infinite, yet possibly finite, card game. Image combinations, permutations, comprise the world game.