Why am I here? Why does my mind, like a loom, weave the world? What does all this mean? Why can’t my hand pass through walls or the hard surface of the table? Who locked me inside this demented fabric of quarks and electrons and photons? Why do I have organs and tissues like cockroaches and worms? What do I have to do with my fingers, my house, my stars, my parents, my skin? Why don’t I remember the time before I was born? Why can’t I remember the future?
