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A fragment of the Garden of Remembering
How many times have I told you about blowing up tanks! You are a naughty, wicked rabbit!
How many times have I told you about blowing up tanks! You are a naughty, wicked rabbit!
There are no means for escaping this world. It penetrates even into your sleep and is its substance. You are caught in your own dreaming, where there is no space, and are held forever where there is no time. You can do nothing you are not told to do. There is no hope for escape from this dream that was never yours. The very words you speak are only its very words, and you talk like a traitor under its incessant torture.
