It's one of those unforgettable moments that happen as a child, when you discover that all along the world has been betraying you.

Part of me is made of glass, and also, I love you.

No, what I felt was the torment of waiting, stuck between the end of one sentence and the beginning of the next which might or might not bring a hail storm, plane crash, poetic justice, or a miraculous reversal.

I scowled at the world. And the world scowled back. We were locked in a stare of mutual disgust.

At the most simplistic level physicists tell us that what we see as reality is not actually accurate. A rock looks solid to us but it's full of empty space and atoms moving and we see it as solid because we need to because it helps us survive, right? Survival being our goal. You can extrapolate that to many other things.

Holding hands, for example, is a way to remember how it feels to say nothing together.

There are moments when a kind of clarity comes over you, and suddenly you can see through walls to another dimension that you'd forgotten or chosen to ignore in order to continue living with the various illusions that make life, particularily life with other people, possible.