The Mystery of Feelings.

I still want to know what feelings are. I get a lot of very strong ones, so I want to see them and prod them and find out what they’re made of.

It confuses me, you see, that for something so definably insubstantial, they can be remarkably powerful. There’s nothing to see or hear or smell or taste or touch, and yet they can drive people to the most extraordinary extremes of attitude and behaviour. They can make and break lives.

So what are they made of? Do they even exist? If they do, are they the very thing that connects us with a different level of reality?

Mmm… The abyss of existentialism is stretching out in front of me again. I think I’ll carry on paddling through the shallows of the continental shelf for a while longer.