The thing in front of you is a designation someone has given it, or it has been there since you were born, or if you bought it, it is exactly what the instruction manual says it is, and you have no problem accepting it. But then I wonder why it suddenly becomes fluffy and uncertain to be present. Then I can no longer say, "This is certain. It is an uncomfortable and unsettling situation. It's an uncomfortable and unsettling situation, with its unappealing stone and wood structures and mechanical fish swimming through the air. When we gather together the things we wish were there, such as dragonflies with strings that fall down, and immerse ourselves in their fluffy state, we feel the silence without sound.
