It was said that all is mind, however not his. He was but a figment of the world’s imagination.
he sought to be relieved of hope. but in the end was forced to give up even that desire.
As winter lingered he found that all that remained him were the certainties arising from the habit of not knowing.
He had once seen something quite beautiful, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t quite remember what it was. Nevertheless he was consoled by the fact that though whatever it might have been was now irretrievably lost at least its beauty...
looking down he realized that the earth’s memory was but the earth. looking up he realized that the sky, in fact, had no memory. looking at himself, on the other hand, he simply forgot.