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LUX

A photograph can show a physical image in which time is static, and a mirror can show a physical image in which time is dynamic, but I think what he saw on the mountain was another kind of image altogether which was not physical and did not exist in time at all. It was an image nevertheless and that is why he felt recognition.
 
It comes to me vividly now because I saw it again last night as the visage of Lux himself.
 
Like that timber wolf on the mountain he had a kind of animal courage. He went on his own way with unconcern for consequences that sometimes stunned people, and stuns me now to hear about it. He did not often swerve to right or to left. I've discovered that.
 
But this courage didn't arise from any idealistic idea of self-sacrifice, only from the intensity of the pursuit, and there was nothing noble about it.
 
I think his pursuit of the ghost of rationality occurred because he wanted to wreak revenge on it, because he felt he himself was so shaped by it. He wanted to free himself from his own image. He wanted to destroy it because the ghost was what he was and he wanted to be free from the bondage of his own identity.
 
In a strange way, this freedom was achieved.
 
This account of him must sound unworldly, but the most unworldly part of it all is yet to come.
 
This is my own relationship to him. This has been forestalled and obscured until now, but nevertheless must be known.
 
I first discovered him by inference from a strange series of events many years ago.
 
One Friday I had gone to work and gotten quite a lot done before the weekend and was happy about that and later day drove to a party where, after talking to everybody too long and too loudly and drinking way too much, went into a back room to lie down for a while.
 
When I awoke I saw that I'd slept the whole night, because now it was daylight, and I thought, "My God, I don't even know the name of the hosts!" and wondered what kind of embarrassment this was going to lead to.
 
The room didn't look like the room I had lain down in, but it had been dark when I came in and I must have been blind drunk anyway.
 
I got up and saw that my clothes were changed. These were not the clothes I had worn the night before.
 
I walked out the door, but to my surprise the doorway led not to rooms of a house but into a long corridor.
 
As I walked down the corridor I got the impression that everyone was looking at me.
 
Three different times a stranger stopped me and asked how I felt. Thinking they were referring to my drunken condition I replied that I didn't even have a hangover, which caused one them to start to laugh, but then catch himself.
 
At a room at the end of the corridor I saw a table where there was activity of some sort going on.
 
I sat down nearby, hoping to remain unnoticed until I got all this figured out. But a woman dressed in white came up to me and asked if I knew her name. I read the little name clip on her blouse. She didn't see that I was doing this and seemed amazed, and walked off in a hurry.
 
When she came back there was a man with her, and was looking right at me. He sat down next to me and asked me if I knew his name.
 
I told him what it was, and was as surprised as they were that I knew it.
 
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