This morning I danced in the brine bath, barefoot on the moonlight. Volpedo whispered secrets to me while I stirred a tumult of stardust in my coffee cup. In my grotto, where time goes astray, the shadows giggle and swap riddles with me:
“People do not lack strength; they lack will.” 1
The world, they say, is an illusion woven from the laughter of the cosmos; they know more about the universe than any book.
Where does the conceivable end and the delusional begin? I no longer ask myself that. I prefer to listen to the songs of the laws of physics. Songs about forgotten worlds in which happiness and unhappiness are just sides of the same coin.
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Victor Hugo ↩︎