Sometimes, when I'm tired and having trouble comprehending things in the normal way, it seems strange that in some parts of our lives, we do ordinary things, manipulating objects, putting things together, having conversations, and yet in others, everything is a symbol, shadowy, amorphous, with meanings just outside the edges of understanding. I remember, earlier today, cutting bread, taking a red lighter out of my pocket and using it to light crayon-shaped candles, folding warm clothes. But there is an unfathomable abyss between those tangible activities which brought me from point A to point B in time, and the twists and turns my mind is constantly making, trying to wrap itself around little events and ideas hidden in the folds of my daily existence that form my symbolic life. I create a world from scratch in my head every day, and when I look out of my head at my life I realize it's a wonder that my body and mind walk around in the same world at all.