How does the same, basic, non-sentient stuff that makes rocks and water and trees and worms, the same building blocks of everything else that isn’t aware of itself, somehow come together in such a way inside you and suddenly, out of what seems like almost nothing, become your entire ornate awareness and experience of self and life? How does it become the feeling of happiness and wonder and romance and melancholy, the experience of colors and imagined intricate scenes that only exist inside your head?
