A long time ago, when the oceans still teemed with fish and the sky was more blue than it is now, there lived a man on an island.
He was a happy man. In the mornings he watched the sun rise above the glittering waves. During the day he explored the island and picked fruits to eat. Before the onset of evening he would wander back to the shore and cast himself on the soft sands. And then, watching the stars spin above him, he would fall asleep.
In this way many years passed. And though he traversed the forests and the caves and the shallow shoals, never did he find the trace of another human being.
After a time this began to disturb the man. Surely, he thought, surely I must have heard the cries of a baby among the cacophony of the native birds. But search his memory as he might, he could not recall a baby's cry among the sounds of the island. Surely, he thought, surely I must have glimpsed the footprints of a man amoung the light prints of the rabbits. But in truth he cound not remember a single instance in which he had seen such a print.
And casting his mind back even further, to his first memories of the beautiful island, he realized that he could not remember how he himself had come to reside there.
Iif I am alone on this beautiful island through some act of disaster, he thought, should I not at least remember my mother and father? But he could not. If I have no parents, he thought, how then did I come to be?
This question so bewildered the man that he spent the night examining his every memory, as if it could show him the secret of his existence.
At last, the man came to the conclusion that he could not exist.
And who's to say that he is incorrect?
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