The composition of reality according to what’s known — that being apparent or not, idealized and lived through that idealization — apprehends in it’s notion that nothing that isn’t known can exist.

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There’s, somehow, a wonderment around what must never be known, but lived through a moment bounded to reality — because of the possibility, while remote and difficult to access, sometimes deceitfully, to live the unknown, on an idea that might never be known in a somewhat normal relationship with existence itself.