beautiful woman
— strong man — they kiss — the story
gives birth to itself —
a strapping pair of twins named
Belief and Reality

I honestly can’t claim I understand this. I guess it says there’s a sense in which the world is created by our capacity for storytelling. Hardly the most original thought. But I enjoyed manipulating the imagery. Suggested by a dream last night in which I was being kissed by a beautiful Arab woman, who was under the mistaken apprehension that I was a famous Muslim spiritual teacher. Eventually I grew ashamed at the pretence and started telling my own true story. The crucial thing seemed to be that I couldn’t bear not being truthful about my own name John.


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