If I Had A Camera,' I Said,

I Think In The Whole Field Of Questions About What We Take To Be "real," One Of Those Questions Is About The Self. When You Talk About The Self We're Always Talking About Whether It's A Construction And It's A Construction We're Always In The Process Of Working On. I Don't Think That Work Ever Ends, To Some Degree.

To Walk Into A Modern-day Bookstore Is A Little Bit Like Studying A Single Photograph Out Of The Infinite Number Of Photographs That Cold Be Taken Of The World: It Offers The Reader A Frame.

At The Most Simplistic Level Physicists Tell Us That What We See As Reality Is Not Actually Accurate. A Rock Looks Solid To Us But It's Full Of Empty Space And Atoms Moving And We See It As Solid Because We Need To Because It Helps Us Survive, Right? Survival Being Our Goal. You Can Extrapolate That To Many Other Things.

I Smiled Back, The Importance Of Manners, My Mother Always Said, Is Inversely Related To How Inclined One Is To Use Them, Or, In Other Words, Sometimes Politeness Is All That Stands Between Oneself And Madness.

("let's Stand Under A Tree," She Said. "why?" "because It's Nicer." "maybe You Should Sit On A Chair, And I'll Stand Above You, Like They Always Do With Husbands And Wives." "that's Stupid." "why's It Stupid?" "because We're Not Married." "should We Hold Hands?" "we Can't." "but Why?" "because, People Will Know." "know What?" "about Us." "so What If They Know?" "it's Better When It's A Secret." "why?" "so No One Can Take It From Us.")