Roses bloom where the dead have fallen.
Springing out of the carcass, one, two, three. The coy smile of the future, the taunting whisper of the past, the forceful speed of the present.
Where does the 'I' in 'I think' come from? In virtue of what am I me? If I am just a thinking thing, how is there an 'I'? What is conciousness? How did consciousness evolve? What is qualia if not our consciousness recognizing the products of our sense faculties? I'm a quarter of the way through Dennet's Consciousness Explained, and so far, I have more questions than explanations.
Am I a blank slate writ upon only by the stylus of experience? Je n'ai pas vu un besoin pour le soul, mais je le veux.
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