"Si no existís, ens l'hauríem d'inventar"

"-Ah. It's you. Good.
I've been waiting a long time to talk to you. Come and sit by the fire.

- Thank you. But..But I'm really here, am I? This room isn't real. Nor are you.
This is all a story, something I'm dreaming or reading...

-Perhaps you're right.
Although isn't having a dream or reading a book a real experience? After all, real or not, this room is where you're awareness is currently centered. And someone's talking to you

- Well, yes, but...I mean, if it's a dream, it's my own subconscious talking. If it's a book it's just some writer. Either way, you're a fiction.

-Ha ha! You're wonderful. You're always so difficult.
Ohhh...don't look hurt. I just meant that's one of the reasons I love you. You're stubborn. You don't just accept things. Okay, now listen to me. Yes, Promethea's fiction. Nobody ever claimed otherwise. I never lied. I'm at least an honest fiction. A true fiction. A fiction that can enter your dreams, possess her creators, talk through them to you. I'm an idea. But I'm a real idea. I'm the idea of the human imagination...which, when you think about it, is the only thing we can really be certain isn't imaginary.

No,don't say anything. Just hold my hand and listen. Your hand's warm. That's nice. It makes this all sort of girldfriendly. See, I'm imagination. I'm real and I'm the best friend you ever had. Who do you think got you all this cool stuff? All the wars,the romances. The masterpieces and the machines. And there's nothing here but a funny little twist of amino acids, playing a marvelous game of pretend. Nothing here but me and you. Me and you, little lifesnake. By the fire where we've always been since this room was a cave. Do you remember? When you first thought you saw things in the flames, in the dancing shadows...and you need me to tell you a tale. A story grand and glorious."


Extret de Promethea d'Alan Moore i J.H. Williams III.