The Copenhagen interpretation of writing.

There’s an old philosophical exercise that goes more or less like this: if I don’t know something exists, would this thing actually exist? It’s the game that you learn if you’ve ever studied philosophy, the old one where you ask your stoned friends if the square you just played football in still exists while you’re not there.

Casual lovers of hippie quantum mechanics interpretations of reality – according to Copenhagen – will say that in a way the square doesn’t exist anymore if you go away. So be it.

That’s so hard for me. I could write the best thing ever, I could write an immortal poem – what good would it be if no one read it?