za zakrętem rzeczywistości

Sixsmith, I climb the steps of the Scott monument every morning. And all becomes clear. Wish I could make you see this brigthness. Don't worry - all is well. All is so perfectly, damnably well. I understand now. The boundaries between noise and sound are conventions. All boundaries are conventions, waiting to be transcended. One may transcend any convention, if only one can first conceive of doing so. Moments like this, I can feel your heart beating as clearly as I feel my own. And I know that separation is an illusion.
/from "Cloud Atlas", "Forbisher's Dream"/