This screen...

This place...

This synthetic food...

Our dressed-up selves...

Even though they're all fabricated decorations

we still have no trouble taking them for granted.

We live in a fiction, yet delude ourselves that something is real.

"Real" things. "Real" natures. What is "real" here, anyway?

An imagined world.

One might think it laughable that we can find any charm in it at all.

Sight is just such an unreliable thing...