Reflections
Reflections start with something small and real — a mug, a sentence, a quiet hour, a hard day. I stay close to the scene and let the meaning rise on its own, without forcing it into an argument. The thinking is still here, but it shows up like a slow reveal: you notice what matters because you’re finally looking at it long enough.
The Pit, With Running Water
j=]One night of many.
Two Kinds of Pain, Two Kinds of Time
Just some of what she contends with.
The Bins…
I’m not going to fight it.
Cool Grass
Understanding the difference between pain and pleasure, solidifying my ethical perspective, and experiencing gratitude yet again.
Consciousness Without Sensation
How important is sensory input to subjective experience? Are they connected, or is it possible to have qualia without data?