In the Sims, you don’t say, “I love you.” You say, “Habadu bashubi,” which roughly translates to, “I cannot move because there is furniture in the way.” I think that’s absolutely beautiful.
At any given moment, you do not exist. Your body exists, temporary though it may be. Still, you are not your body. You are merely an electrochemical process of your body. The continuity of your separate self is manufactured every few milliseconds by a hunk of warm grey meat between your ears. In the time it takes you to read this sentence, your brain has created you a thousand times, and it has left behind a thousand ghosts of you.
