He paddled his canoe along the riverbank. Up the banking to his right a corn field stretched for hundreds of yards. To his left woods ranged for miles sloping up into the mountain. He paddled in the middle of it all watching the wind touch the water. He liked to look at the sandy bottom as he glided over. If he used his shadow he could see the river bottom clearly. He could even see individual grains of sand. He wondered if anyone had ever seen the particular grain of sand that he was looking at now. There wouldn’t be enough time in any universe to prove if it had, he thought. “Remember your first thought. Now remember before that. Think of time as a flat surface already containing the past and future without an ending. Now place a mirror above and below. This is nothing but imagination. Remove my voice, I’m already unseen. Now it is yours. Is it real?” Whispered the wind.