You Can't Imagine How Hard

We Search For Patterns, You See, Only To Find Where The Patterns Break. And It’s There, In That Fissure, That We Pitch Our Tents And Wait.

Wittgenstein Once Wrote That When The Eye Sees Something Beautiful, The Hand Wants To Draw It. I Wish I Could Draw You.

The Clarity Was Startling And Samson Wondered Whether He Was Imagining These Moments. Not That They Hadn't Happened At All, But That They Had Been Embellished By Details From Elsewhere, Fragments That Survived The Obliteration Of Other Memories, Vagrant Data That Gravitated And Stuck To What Was Left To Remember. But In The End He Rejected This Idea. The Memories Were Too Perfect: Take One Detail Away And They Collapsed Into Disorder.

Sometimes, Waking Early Before The Others, Wandering The Rooms Wrapped In A Blanket Or Drinking My Tea In The Empty Kitchen, I Had That Most Rare Of Feelings, The Sense That The World, So Consistently Overwhelming And Incomprehensible, In Fact Has An Order, Oblique As It May Seem, And I A Place Within It.

The Book Forest Dark Wants To Provoke Questions About What Is Reality And Why Are We So Given To Believe That Reality Is Firm And Unbendable. There's A Whole Host Of Questions That The Book Is Asking About That. Why Do We Believe That The World Is Only One Way And As We See It? Why Are We Not Open To The Ways In Which It Might Be Otherwise.