Has anyone ever succeeded in getting it down in words? Any philosopher or poet or blessed spirit, to say what it is to be in time, to be conscious, to taste, to see, to feel, to know, to say exactly why it isn't obvious, why there should even be a question? Or perhaps the answer is right on the surface but only lacks a reader, lacks the reader in you to recognise it? You wouldn't even consider throwing yourself into this abyss if you didn't feel it silently screaming at you in each moment - making each moment. Is it a matter of lacking something or of something too much? How is not-knowing possible? Is all knowing impugned, just a semblance of something else? But then, semblance? Most likely it's that the question has never been correctly framed, that the addressee for the answer has never fully emerged. Who or what is it that could recognise at once the composition of this? What kind of terrifying satisfaction is at stake? Where in the dream is the dreamer, what tyger, what monstrosity?