They were not the same eyes with which he has last looked out at this particular scene, and the brain which interpreted the images the eyes resolved was not the same brain. There had been no surgery involved, just the continual wrenching of experience.
— Douglas Adams: So Long and Thanks For All the Fish (via you-re-always-playing-yellow-car)
As a boy, I used to think what a terrible punishment it would be to have to count every pebble on the shore. Or what it would be like to lose something precious there and never be able to find it. Now, every day, I look for a stone with a hole in it. I align it to a particular point as a viewfinder; the light bursts through like a little sun, the world seen through a prehistoric telescope. They’re powerful talismans, these holy or hag stones. Back home they tumble out of my pockets and over shelves and window-sills as calendars of my days …… As a boy I listened to the rushing noise inside shells; the same sound has been in my ears for years now, a perpetual ocean in my head.
Philip Hoare “The Sea Inside” 2013
I’m reading this book at the moment, and enjoying it immensely.(via brushstrokesandshutterclicks)