How odd, I can have all this inside me,
and to you, it’s just words.
David Foster Wallace
The Pale King
This reads like a koan.
One can read a sentence in a book, and sometimes, a book in a sentence.
This feels like a koan to me. Something to be left alone in the mind for a while. No explanation necessary. Just a couple of lines floating around until, perhaps, they become something else.
Here is a derivative version that I wrote:
How sad, I can give more than all of me,
and to you, it’s just a bit of time…
I take leave for today:)