This screen...

This place...

This synthetic food...

Our dressed-up selves...

we still have no trouble taking them for granted.

An imagined world.

"Real" things. "Real" natures. What is "real" here, anyway?

One might think it laughable that we can find any charm in it at all.

We live in a fiction, yet delude ourselves that something is real.

Even though they're all fabricated decorations

Sight is just such an unreliable thing...