Tilda Swinton lee un fragmento de The Raw Shark Texts
(Stephen Hall, 2007)
Imagine you're in a rowing boat on a lake.
It's summer, early morning. That time when the sun hasn't quite broken free of the landscape and long, projected shadows tiger-stripe the light. There's the occasional sound of wind in leaves and the occasional slap-splash of a larger wavelet breaking on the side of your boat, but nothing else.
Now, right on that tap - stop. Stop imagining. Here's the real game. The lake in my head has just become the lake in your head. I could have been dead a hundred years before you were even born and still the lake in my head has become the lake in your head.