As I read I think about the metaphorical nature of existence. Is existence a metaphor for something else? Or is it a metaphor when we are not living but dreaming about living, maybe remembering a life lived once, now, in the confines of our bed, trying to make sense of a moment lived once. But when we are living, without thinking, without steering, then life just is. May we meet people who makes us forget of existence and let us or prompt us to just live.