« Perfect Interdependence »

Slashing rain.
Trembling brown surface of black tea in a cup.
Uneven breath.

I am outside, on the porch, on a workout bench, reading Sartre’s “Being and Nothingness,” doing supersets in between.

This doesn’t exist without me.
I don’t exist without this.
Conclusion: I am this.

And yet I am not.
A perfect interdependence of this and that.
A perfect interdependence of reality and illusion.