They say the body is a temple, but they never explained how to talk with it.

I imagine you use knobs. There’s a pad where you draw. The way you draw and how fast you draw on it turns the knobs. It’s like a reverse etch-a-sketch. The way the knobs turn and how fast they change determine what happens. States are things and turn speeds are actions. Sometimes little dogs draw on it but they’re dumb so nobody knows what they’re saying. Dolphins and monkeys can use them because they are smarter, and we can communicate about either philosophy or science.

If you turn around from the pad, you see a portrait of a goose. It doesn’t look like a goose, though. It kind of does, but sometimes its face is sideways. It looks like a wood carving, but it’s supposed to be a painting. It has a frame around it and it’s hung over the fireplace, so it has to be a painting even if its not. It stands on a field, and if you look closely, you can see a barn-house in the background. When you look at it for too long you hear menacing banjo-guitar music and it starts whipping its eyes around. It doesn’t like me.

The walls are wood and they have rectangles in them. Sometimes they’re above a threshold and other times they’re below. Sometimes the wood creeps to the top of the ceiling so that the paint doesn’t show.

You never leave until you do. Once you stop thinking about it, you leave. You sometimes pop back in, though. That’s just how it works.