Sunday, March 14, 2010

On Illusion

We were walking through a park, and noticed a grey fox sitting far away.  It wasn’t a grey fox sitting.  It was a tree stump.  It was shaped like a sitting animal, about dog size, with pointy ears and a pointy medium length nose.  It had a tail from a tree root sticking out of the ground.  Such were the colors of it that it looked like light was shining in through its front and rear paws.  And as we got closer, there was even light in between the two front paws.  We kept walking towards it, and it looked more and more real with every step.  Then suddenly, with a few steps, the grey sitting fox disappeared; all we saw in front of us was a tree stump.

It was just an illusion, and it was all gone.  It had felt so real even though there was nothing there.  We had started believing in it, when there was nothing there.  And you think about it, the illusion that exists between two things.  About how it feels like it’s right there, about how much imagination you put into creating the illusion.  But illusions seem to break down when you get too close…

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