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In so many ways my ways of seeing are entangled with my ways of being. And my ways of being are entangled with my knowing.

And I look up, the world out there, around me here, is also entangled with my ways of seeing, being, and knowing. And in the end I remember, it's with me I have to live.

I go back, looking through my self seeing this world and being aware of my presence in it. A moment, a minute, I contemplate, I hold the moment, not quite seeing, more like sensing, when I was young enough to know the truth, an openness.

Knowing for that moment, not quite seeing. So many other senses come into play. The moment fades, that knowing, that seeing.

Something like a memory-feeling holds onto an image of that moment of seeing and knowing. I close my eyes and recollect that moment, like a photograph. I wonder for a moment if some aspects of memory worked this way before photography. I won't know. I imagine.

What do I know, what do I see, what do I imagine, this image, an articulation.

Articulation, a form of movement. My ways of seeing, an articulation, I gaze, look, glance. I move my head a little, a new field of view, a blink, like another photograph. I close my eyes, just for a few seconds to recollect the blink.

This blink of experience imperceptibly happening throughout my day. This sense of reality that I feel I can touch, and then it's gone. Things happen. Thoughts happen. Sometimes I see this.

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