The Real is in front of your eyes, wafting through

your nose, brushing past your arm, ringing in your ears.

Real is the flood of numerous emotions flowing through your

skin, the thoughts in your bodymind. Real is the

soft, warming rumble of a cats’ purr sitting on your belly with a

beer in the right. Illusion is the TV you watch,

real are your own reactive emotions dumping information

into the NeuroBioChemical Soup between your ears. Illusion

is the story running in your head, full of why’s and

should’s. Real is the way you hold your head, the look you

give, the tension in your belly and the weight on your toes,

all yearning to communicate through direct experience the

sum total thesis of your life to this situation.

Right Now. All at Once. Illusion is the line, the curve, the symbol,

the template, the syntax, the message. Illusion

is the philosophy. Real is the tone, the flesh, the

air. Real is the tongue, ink, and hand all angrily punching

through the desk. Illusion is the oppositions’

chin, kidney on the desk. Illusion is words.

These words cannot hit.

The Magical Realism is when they do. Who casts

the spell?