Who are you?

Trying to read Proust with a math notebook by my side. Math ideas interrupt my reading. I scribble in my notebook then return to Proust.

Like Hume, I realize there is no me, just this panorama of images that pass before my inner eye. No thoughts cross my mind that might constitute a narrative.

I can’t cop a plea, for I have no story to fall back on.

Published in: on October 13, 2010 at 8:38 pm  Leave a Comment  

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