Neither is real, and so this is to be seen. Both are tiny reflections on a jewel and the person covets their reflection like it were the whole of reality.
This being done, this doer, this place and these things are a small private world shared only in that there are others here who have a similar view. These are transient worlds, they are born, do nothing but change, and then extinguish.
What is present and unchanging through the infinite small words coming and going?
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