Every reader finds themselves. The writer’s work is merely a kind of optical instrument that makes it possible for the reader to discern what, without this book, they would perhaps never have seen in themselves.
PROLEGOMENON:
Your answers — anyone's answers — may become for another reader just such an ātmanopticon: that optical lens-like perspective one among you composes that, without having read it, another reader may not ever have recognized that quality or trait within themselves.
A practice/sādhana: the questions invite an unguarded, thoughtful state, and at times the answer astonishes in what it describes of some interior (அகம்) — a subject, the grammatical I, a formulation of truth.
Return, after enough time and a species of amnesia, to respond again. The earlier answers belong to someone else; the one answering now is provisional too. Another self emerges where the past collides with the present, out of the memories we make and their associations. This is not a tragedy. It’s more like the weather.
The questionnaire keeps their record — so many persons in succession, bearing one name: I.
Insofar as recognition adds nothing new — points to nothing that hasn’t always been known — it is well captured by doubling the ‘I’: ‘I-I’ sees the ones already given, who you were when you answered then; who answers now; who will — as one light regarding itself.
Find who sleeps.
That is what this instrument is for.
a gate:
Here we meet @ a gate:
What follow are not polite questions. They are holes in the ice. Answer honestly and something cold touches the feet.
