…Can you see that moth high up under the white ceiling of the gallery? You can only say it is there because it is moving. Looking from where we are now we could take it for a bird if imagine that the ceiling is the Sky. For the moth it is actually the Sky, and only we know that the moth is mistaken. And yet, she is not aware of the fact that WE know that. She doesn’t even know that we exist. Given that, could you try to communicate with her? Give it a try. Could you tell her anything, no matter what, but in such a way, that she understood you, so that you could be sure she did.
– I don’t know. Can YOU do this?
– Yes, I can. – he said and in a strike of hands killed the moth and showed her squashed remnants on his palm. – Imagine, he continued- that there is someone, who knows about us what we know about the moth. Someone, who possesses the knowledge of the how and why our space is limited, the knowledge of something that we consider to be the Sky, unlimited and infinite. Someone, who can not approach us, and it’s only by killing us that he lets us realize we exist, makes us feel our existence. Someone, whose clothes we feed ourselves on, someone, who holds our death as the language, the means of communication with us…
Khazar Dictionary. M. Pavic