Sometimes the river of thought flows through rapids, smothering the new born consciousness with the many faces of reality, so rich and thick with meaning you don’t even know if they’re yours, if they even exist, whether existence is something whose presence you can guarantee tomorrow.

She had never considered, while enjoying the bounty of flowers and fruit which followed her into the world, that when she looked at all those plants she loved so much, as beautiful as they were, she only saw half of them. The other half was here, quietly hidden underground.