i apoligize it took the form of a shitey poem, but sometimes easier, however pretensious seeming: Is that old impassive rock not alive? Could it have tricked its mind into believing it wills my path obstructed by its weight? Could I not be a boulder's hands, moving other boulders at its commands? My hand surely is not alive-- But would I ask it? And when it answer--for an answer, positive or negative, is always there-- would i believe it? would I believe that it answered? I have tricked myself into believing my brain enslaves my body when a dialogue exists between all parts. I do hope, for his sake, that my friend, the rock has no delusions of grandeur...that he controls the wind which dries his flesh, or the river moves his earthen legs; And I hope the same for myself.