There is a certain kind of thing that I picked up from Faulkner, and that’s the business of delayed revelation.
“The body is imaginary, and we bow to the tyranny of a phantom. Love is a privilege perception, the most total and lucid not only of the unreality of the world but of our own unreality: not only do we traverse a realm of shadows; but ourselves are shadows.”
Adolfo Bioy Casares