I used to think of my life as made up of events, as single occurrences. But where draw the line? Where does 'going to the hairdresser' stop and 'making love with my girlfriend' begin? When did I stop being a child playing with Lego's and become a well-behaved tax-paying adult? When did I cease being nothing and became a conscious kicker in my mother's womb? Events suggest obstructions, tension, a holding back. These time-based definitions are merely a small portion of all definitions, which are desperate attempts to capture the flow of a river in buckets, to then one by one carry them to the sea over land; you'll probably die before you get there, plus the purpose of the river is not to get water to the sea... the purpose of a river is being a river. Everything else is a side-effect. It has no beginning or end, it has no banks, it holds no water. What, then, defines it as a river? Nothing, there is no river. Only the one I'm pretending to be there.