I've come to a sort of realization. It's difficult to explain, though. I'm not sure what it means, either. It's that reality is small. No, I don't think I'm going in the direction you believe I am. I don't believe I have a direction yet.
I was thinking about books, and how each storyteller explains and describes in their own unique way, so that even though there are so many books, each is original. (Perhaps this is part of the answer to my music puzzle, as well.) Each author's world, therefore, is different.
Yet we only have one story, one history, one reality. Perspective may differ, but the basic storyline runs the same for all of us. We have never known of another story, and we struggle even to comprehend the one we have taken part in for a million years.
Fire that does not burn.
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