we are so blind that we may as well consider even the highest and greatest philosophies of our minds as nothing more than transient lighting effects.
we can contain nothing. no truth, no reason, no origin. our arguments for/against are babbling brooks of pointed soundplay. we are only in relation to, and thus there is no center from which to posit anything. to try is futile, even as this text collapses into its own hubris and presumption. ... the eternal braided lattice of unknowing presence ...
