I mean to say that the world is full of beautiful things but nevertheless poor, very poor when it comes to beautiful moments and unveilings of these things. But perhaps this is the powerful magic of life: it is covered by a veil interwoven with gold, a veil of beautiful possibilities, sparkling with promise, resistance, bashfulness, mockery, pity, and seduction. Yes, life is a woman.
Friedrich Nietzsche
Joseph Weissman
Taylor Adkins
The madwoman and the philosopher, an impossible conversation?
“You have a transcript of my thoughts. Across a Planck length, you think my thoughts because my broken brain is burning and its ashes draw patterns in the sky.”
“Thank you. I steal things from you and give them back: reflection.”
“You’re welcome. Your becoming-philosopher welcomes my being-mirror. And one day the library will demand us both back.”
“Thank you. You do what I cannot do because I am what you cannot be. ‘I’ give ‘me’ to ‘you.’ Somewhere infinity accelerates, untwists into zero, and can no longer twist itself back. Somewhere outside, infinities-of-ones and infinities divide themselves into one zero. Whose impossible becoming is this? Denaming and recision. Decoming and recoherence. Reversibility accelerates infinitely until all thought becomes impossible.”
Thinking is not thought.
For everyone of these perspectives the opposite can be argued, it’s in how you choose to see. You can choose to see through the eyes of life or death.