Oliver Sacks writes about consciousness and the perception of time:
“Time,” says Jorge Luis Borges, “is the substance I am made of. Time is a river that carries me away, but I am the river….” Our movements, our actions, are extended in time, as are our perceptions, our thoughts, the contents of consciousness. We live in time, we organize time, we are time creatures through and through. But is the time we live in, or live by, continuous â€”like Borges’s river? Or is it more comparable to a chain or a train, a succession of discrete moments, like beads on a string?
“Piranesi’s Keyhole,” a poem for today, brought to you by the good folks at Poetry Daily.