Fake Final #2
The world, Jacoby contends, is an endlessly complicated series of fissures, gaps intersecting gaps. Human understanding, he tells us, is a provocative but utterly incomplete shadow of a body of knowledge beyond comprehension. As he finished his soda, he tilted his head thoughtfully, as though thinking of some private fantasy, of an island far from the prying minds of hopeless meaning-makers. He glanced back toward me, coming out of his reverie. “I seem to have lost myself for a moment. Do you have the time?”
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