Fichte / Picture There is nothing real anywhere, neither outside of us nor in us. I know of no being at all. Not even myself. Images there are. They are all that exist, connected to each other, interpenetrating, merging, overlapping, an irreducible multiplicity of unframed pictures in movement. It is a strange dream making pictures of other pictures, the image of your mind picturing pictures, and the picture of my mind picturing you doing so.