“… I see that everything I’ve done, thought or been is a species of delusion or madness. I’m amazed at what I managed not to see. I marvel at all that I was and that I now see I’m not. All that I’ve done,  thought or been is a series of submissions, either to a false self that I assumed belonged to me because I expressed myself through it to the outside, or to a weight of circumstances that I supposed was the air that I breathed. In this moment of seeing I suddenly find myself isolated, an exile where I’d always thought I was a citizen. At the heart of my thoughts I realised I wasn’t I.”



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