“Human beings have always been storytellers and you use that as a way of understanding who you are, and who the people around you are, and what’s going on,” he says. “If I look back, which I don’t very often, the books do seem to be like reports from different stages of my consciousness. I think most of us do that – we all tell each other stories all the time.”(Shelley Hepworth, “‘I guess I’m having a go at killing it’: Salman Rushdie to bypass print and publish next book,” theguardian,com, 9-1-21)
Building on Rushdie’s insight, I posit that some of us tell stories to ourselves in striving to adumbrate the imago that skulks in mirrors. What else can excuse my figments?
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