If Ibn Sina were here, he would tell you to imagine yourself as a falling girl. You are suspended in air, clouds so thick you cannot see. Your limbs are spread wide and touch no surface. Nothing reaches you. Nothing touches you. And yet you know you exist. How is that possible? I had not wanted to disappoint him, but I wasn’t sure I understood Ibn Sina’s philosophical ponderings. I had closed my eyes, playing the part of a girl floating through space. I existed because I was here to say so. Even in suspension, I could think and breathe and be me. You need no one to confirm you. You are
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