Just don't know.

Agatha Christie, Poirot, John Lennon. I am searching, forever searching. Nothing is surreal anymore. This is what we like to call the start of what we hope to end, or perhaps perceive to be the end. A series of opposites observed in everything, the paradoxical life.
And where are you?
Are these your words or my own? No. This is our dictum.
Everything ever learnt came from the words of another. Thought and mind are subservient to the thesis of another.

This is perhaps the greatest illustration of what a mind can or cannot be.