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There is an idea of who I am: some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me; only an entity, something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel my flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable, I simply am not there. -
There is an idea of who I am: some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me; only an entity, something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel my flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable, I simply am not there.
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