The Philosopher’s Daughter


Thoughts from the backseat on a drive into school: “Daddy,” she begins, “maybe this is all just a play.”

Shakespearean supposing. Then, later: “I know, I know! Maybe we are all in somebody’s dream!”

Cartesian consideration.

I ask, importantly, “What do you think it would mean if we were all in a dream? Would mommy and daddy still love you?”

“Yep,” she replied, certain despite Descartes.


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