Another Choice

But the unexpected has somehow gained entry into our days and the encounters we have are more meaningful and more fecund – their very brevity often rendering them even more luminous.

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It now seems to us that what we name “I” or “me” is really only a shard or a glimmer, a lessened echo or a parody, if not an accident, of our real true self, who is no “I” at all but another state and yet, actually, one’s very own self.

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