If we can assume from what appears to be persuasive
evidence supporting the Darwinian hypothesis that through
the eons the innate proclivity of every class of living things
has been to mutate mercilessly randomly, get sick and die
off quickly, until finally it stumbles into one of those
symmetrical economies of means that strictly serve survival,
what accounts for the arrival through Imagination of my
untoward babies’ birth? They don’t look as if they’d last
a nanosecond on the Earth. You say, “that’s because they
aren’t really here. Marks you make on paper lack intrinsic
meaning: that you use inert, reductive symbols to imbue
with sentient animate existence, almost always out of anxious
loneliness and narcissistic fear, seems clear.” And I say, ha!
Watch what happens when you tell them that, my dear.”
Watch what happens when you tell them that, my dear.”
.
No comments:
Post a Comment