My head started talking to me like it was a stranger. First it told me that history was entirely fictional. All of it. I agreed. Then it said that I was a flying thing, and this whole ground-based life was a complete misunderstanding. I agreed again. Then it started criticizing my choices of lovers, and I had to agree once more. But what really surprised me was when it began to explain that I was actually a fish engaged in a complex fantasy which I understood to be myself, and that a man somewhere else was just as confused and believed himself a fish. Frankly, I found this hard to swallow because I could -=not quite understand what my head meant=-. In reply I said that one day I will take a rod and line and catch that fish. My head said: you better not try it, because if you succeed, the universe will implode and become an infinitely dense speck. Then we both started laughing. These words are the sound of that laughter, rendered into marks which you can taste with your mind’s tongue.