Not being able to plan or foresee more than a couple days, all this H. sapien sapien grey matter stuck inside executive functions sometimes no more advanced than H. habilis. I thought about writing a whole essay on that a couple days ago, spun the thing out in my head beautifully, but it fizzled away and now all that remains is this, proving my point.

Someone asked me last night what I was doing next weekend and I stared at them dumbfounded, next weekend doesn’t even exist yet, it’s some vague shadowy future thing. Behind her the hills were a two dimensional backdrop with shimmering lights, in front of them a string of telephone polls vaguely three dimensional, while she was alive and fully formed and shot through with dimensions. I tried to listen to what she was saying but the vista was so gorgeous I couldn’t help but marvel at it.

Time to go home, I said. She gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek, her lips warm and vivid. Touch is three dimensions, alive. Outside on the sidewalk, in the dark, the trees were layered against the city behind it, like a painting on a wall.

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