Where we question our selves, and others, and that shady dude who has actually pierced a hole in his newspaper

I wonder if anyone actually did that. Is there any truth to that at all? Did some random spy types actually make a hole in the newspaper, right at eye-level, and then went ahead with all the spying and all.

I wonder what it would be like to be a spy. Getting back home, after a long day of work. Pulling off the shoes, and the socks. Throwing the keys and the badge on the table. Would you still be interested in what your friends and family are telling you? Or would all your curiosity be spent.

There must be some limit to curiosity. Surely. You can’t be extremely curious about everything all the time, can you? How much information can you store in your mind? Is there some unit for that? This fellow can store upto 7 bbs of data. How would you quantify that data? How do you actually break down memories and information into units when they are stored in your mind?

What about data corruption? The slow decay over time. The mixing and matching of memories, overlapping each other until it is difficult, no impossible, to differentiate each one. You think memories are like ghosts inside your brain? Just floating, almost ethereal, and the longer they stay in there, the more translucent they become? Slowly fading.

Slow decay. Fast decay. It is all a matter of perspective really. I imagine having perspective to be akin to having a telescope kind of thing. Or a really big blackboard. Like a really, really big blackboard. But it is not always about the trees and the forests, it can work the other way around.

Sometimes the words come out, and sometimes they don’t. Sometimes I think that if I wait long enough, it will be all okay. Other times, I think that I will just be dead. Isnt that what happens to everyone. Death. The long sleep, the final time out.

 

 

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