Thing

Look at the air. It is a substantial thing. It breathes; we think we’re breathing the air, but that’s an illusion.

All of the so-called dead things, they are not here with us. They are on the other side, in a parallel world. They are in an underworld, except it’s not “underneath” so much as layered right on top of this place, infinitely near but not quite touching. The things themselves can touch each other. But anything alive cannot touch anything else, because all living beings are separated by a thin layer of film called “consciousness”, which keeps that being isolated, in its own place apart from everything else, alive or dead.

The surface of one thing is the surface of another thing. For us, there is always something layered in between. We living things, we are each different from the rest. We are smaller. So-called dead things are really a single, enormous living thing.

“Underworld” is right, because, deep enough into the subconscious, it’s like touching the thing itself, directly. It all connects together at the root. I know this from falling asleep, and noticing things becoming smooth. When humans die, they are turned into things; the same thing happens when falling asleep. This proves that we are connected to the things themselves; they are not really somewhere else.

The mystery of the thing cannot be spoken of. If one says merely “the egg”, the topic is exhausted, and the world becomes naked.

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