We are told about the brain, how the senses work, but we don’t grasp the implications. Where is your brain? You don’t know. Why not? Because all you have are the senses, the byproduct. There is a theoretical brain out there somewhere – the fountain of experience. But you float downstream of it; you can never reach the fountain itself. All sights, tastes, sounds, sensations, thoughts, emotions, everything – all sensual evidence of your self – swirl together in the same water. Experience is claustrophobic in this way; there’s no transparency. Even this supposed brain here is a collection of colors, sensations, what we call matter. Ingest the right chemical, and even matter – your body, your self sense of self – dissolve. That’s a clue. You are not outside of this. Pick apart the brain and you’ll find no seam through which to poke your head out of this sensate bubble. What is outside? What shape is the real body, the real brain, the source of all this?