September 5, 2010
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I had a dream the other night that there was a book that was too long for me to ever read. It would've taken several lifetimes. It was only a few inches thick, but with this sort of book you shouldn't let yourself be fooled by physical size. A few inches to your eyes would require generations of breath from your lungs. I didn't even pick the book up; I was too intimidated. I chose the smaller one next to it on the shelf.
Upon waking I realized that every book ever written is just a chapter from the same story, this one infinite book of finite details.
Comments (1)
you must have chosen the one about your lifetime, the one that you need to get through this lifetime before the next one happens.
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