A rush of blood to the nose. Her questions were always inspiring. But where did this inspiration come from?
“If the I does not exist, then who’s uttering these words, who’s lying next to you on this floor?”
“Life is,” he said, “You see, when you say “I am”, you’re actually saying “Life is”. Imagine a river. The I you can’t let go of is a ripple flowing to the sea. But you... You are the river.”
“All this time,” she hummed, “the river flowed...endlessly to the sea...”
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