It’s plagiarism and it’s expedient. The title of this entry was originally written in a book by Terry Pratchett, a great and odd writer of fantasy books as well as the creator an entire universe , and Discworld.
Every thing that has come in to being, was at one point, not, and thus could not have been true. A person, or a group of people began to believe in whatever great thing, or sadly whatever, evil thing there is and thus it became. I cannot think of a single better explanation for what I am trying to do, make something that is as yet not true, true merely by investing my belief in it.
Most moments, I feel tired, and unmoved to belief by my surroundings until I insist that my mind see more clearly. All the things that are true, because I have believed they are true haven’t changed, but new things are beginning to grow from mist and wish into sailboats and water fountains, pretty dresses and plastic kayaks on cool summer mornings. So, I grit the teeth of my consciousness and will another reality to manifest…
