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“When I imitate myself, I am a number of certain people,”
When I imitate myself, I am a number of certain people, some of them certain. I, myself, am a master of certain people which implies mastery is possible, something to look into, esther spyglass, esther file cabinet. I store in me a compelling fact: while the Book of Esther is one of only two books that does not name God, it is impossible to argue that Esther is unimportant to God. If I named God, I would name him more like a boat than a dog, but more like a dog than a dead relative. Metaphysically, I am more centaur than dog, more centaur than boat. It was my top half that said: “If you do not fear death, you lack imagination,” which implies my top half has mastered the art of speaking. I am a master of certain people when I imitate myself, when I imitate myself which parts of me are flattered? I have to believe the stagehand is testing the lights, but I get to believe that to exist is to test the light. If there’s a velvet curtain: I will be good when it lifts. God, I haven’t confirmed my surroundings because I haven’t opened my eyes.