I'm trying to tell you something. It has to come through some medium. I cannot explicitly say it because it cannot be explicitly said. Language is triggers. I will try to show you.

There is a woman. She thinks of herself as a guy. Not a man, nor a boy, nor a girl, but a guy.

Language is a demon. I am a demon. There are demons of love. Love-demons.

Think of everything as demons and math. What else is there? Can you think of a third thing?

In the beginning there was the word. Language. Math.

Then there was light. Demons.

The only question is, how did we forget? How do I constantly have a feeling of connection to the immediate past, and all my pasts before, but never your past? Is there only me? I can't seriously ask that question. I give in to you as easily as I give in to me. Like a drug that isn't always good but isn't always bad.

There is a man. He thinks of himself as a guy. Not a man, nor a boy, nor a girl, but a guy.

The process walks.