How could it be, for the invisible-man, knowing that choice is the lure of necessity that binds him to his world? He is never himself, invisible as he is, always becoming, always changing into an-Other, beaten down by his “not-being.” There is never an edge or finality, nor a determinate that could roll from the fingers of fate and twist the invisible lines that corral the invisible-man. Contradiction reeks of choice and the air is full of it. He, himself, is a contradiction. He is choice-less.
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