Living life as if life were living; as if life were flowing into us – as if we were the river receiving the baby and not the baby adrift. To a baby, in a basket, on a river, a baby with forming eyes and no glossary, existence is dimensionless (silent). The dimensions of a life are birth and death; living is dimensionless, and always beginning.
To be saved, one needs a basket, it seems. Moses, Saul, Lazarus… To get anywhere in terms of our personal narratives, we need to be carried on silence; we need the darkness (in the sense of dimensionless, baby-eyed, baby-glossed perception).