Public domain image from Pixabay.com
What is reality, really? How does one determine what is truth? Sometimes, when I’m walking the dog at night, I look up, watch the tangerine clouds move across the periwinkle sky and think, “This doesn’t look real. It looks more like painted tufts of cotton floating across a darkened bowl.”
I guess that’s one of the perks of living in the city — the light pollution makes your telescope a useless bauble sitting in your living room to impress your friends.
I know I’m not the only one to contemplate “what is real?” If I was, we wouldn’t have TV shows like VR5, movies like Videodrome, The Matrix and The Thirteenth Floor, or characters like Granny Weatherwax saying, “…”
I left that blank because I was going to go an look it up … but I never did. In one of Terry Pratchett’s books, she contemplates reality and said something quite profound that stuck with me … but not obviously enough for me to quote it. Erg.
I know the quote appeared in one of these books:
