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ኣፄ መኮንን's avatar

Last night, as I was reading a short book on ethics, it struck me: where is my imagination? A paragraph started with "imagine for a moment," and I just read it and didn't even imagine anything. And it struck me even more; for any sort of book/discipline, the main things are in the implicit, in the things that can't be made explicit. You have a point, or rather Ian M. has a point when compairing between the master and the emissary.

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