There is a so-called human (a type of animal) that follows me around everywhere I go. He is dead—I am alive. Or, he would say that I am dead and he is alive. Clearly I am not an animal; I am not even the kind of thing that an animal is! I have almost nothing in common with any animal: for one thing, I don’t exist in the world, and I am not made up of physical material. And yet, I’m trapped inside this human, as though we were the same thing. I have nothing against him and I don’t believe he is out to harm me, but I find it totally bizarre that we’re stuck together in this way.

The one who experiences all this has the experience of being a human. This seems somehow oddly specific. Surely, even if humans and other animals did not exist, there would still be life somewhere in the universe. Nothing can’t be. It’s impossible to imagine a universe consisting only of matter without any consciousness (try it!). So then why of all things a human?

Is the human my image? The god created humans in its image. But when other humans look at him, they confuse him for me. They believe themselves to be looking at the real thing, not a mere image of it. It’s humiliating to be seen in this way.