“This cell belongs to a brain, and it is my brain, the brain of me
who is writing; and the cell in question, and within it the atom in
question, is in charge of my writing, in a gigantic minuscule game which
nobody has yet described. It is that which at this instant, issuing out
of a labyrinthine tangle of yeses and nos, makes my hand run along a
certain path on the paper, mark it with these volutes that are signs: a
double snap, up and down, between two levels of energy, guides this hand
of mine to impress on the paper this dot, here, this one.”
Sunday, July 07, 2024
a labyrinthine tangle
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