Let us say that there is a person standing in front of you. Or a book is resting on a chair. Or a sunny day glows all around. Now let us say that none of that is real but you imagine the same things. What is the difference between the real and the imagined? Some have said – was it Proust? - that the difference is that the real is seen as though through a veil or that it has a thin film of darkness over it or there is present with it an I-don't-know-what. The merely imagined is translucent and as perspicuous as mind. The real is … I don't know what it is. Something else is there. It is the darkness of the Other. To remove that is to have only the presence of mind to itself. That may be, after all, the task of the philosopher.
Who knows what is better and what is worse in this world... as no man knows what the end of the BIG game is.
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