I can say …


… But the thinker can’t tell its tale entirely as it’s always a step ahead or behind itself — a self out of step with itself, the teller splitting from the thinker and in the telling falling behind, or racing ahead, saying something seemingly without forethought and only later wondering at what came out of the mouth. Then the thinker in its reflective, listening, self-evaluating mode falls behind the teller. And so the self streams on, many currents mingling and diverging and whirling in vortices big and small, giving voice audibly, or in the unfathomed chamber of the mind, only to itself. In deep sleep and other moments of silence there is peaceful quiescence, turbulence coming to rest and any sense of self falling freely through bottomless depths, floating on blissfully.

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