Games are so absorbing, aren’t they? So very absorbing… You might think that I’m silly for making such a simple observation. You might think I’m a bit daft. Well yes they can be, you might reply. Sometimes they can be for sure. But what of it, you are probably (politely) implying. What’s the big deal? Yes – we know games can sometimes be fairly absorbing. Yes – we get that. Yes indeed – but what of it? So what? I know people don’t understand this. I know that they can’t understand it – it’s one of those limitations in human thought. The point is that the games we play aren’t just a bit absorbing, or quite absorbing, or even very absorbing sometimes, but that they are ABSOLUTELY absorbing. They don’t leave anything left over. They are so very absorbing that we don’t have any chance of coming into contact with reality; we never even come close to having contact with reality because we far too busy with the game. Too busy with the game. Too busy. Too busy. Just take a look around you. Watch someone go by, in the street or in the corridor or wherever. Observe them closely. What do you see? They’re completely caught up in their own little game, aren’t they? Completely caught up.  What I’m trying to say here (because I still don’t think that I’m getting the point across right) is that the person you have chosen to observe is completely content with their game; they are as content as if it were the whole wide world and not just a little game. Their game is the whole world to them – it has perfectly substituted itself for the world. It’s not as if the person you have chosen to observe is going around looking perplexed with (or suspicious of) the reality they are engaged with, as if some sort of trick or hoax might have been played upon them. Not at all – you KNOW that people aren’t going around looking like that! We’re all perfectly convinced that our little game, the little game were playing, is the real deal, the genuine article, the Unexpurgated Original Edition. We’re absolutely convinced that our little game is the Whole of Everything. It’s all there, we think – everything we could ever want. There is nothing missing, and there is nothing wrong or funny with it either. We couldn’t be more convinced by it, we couldn’t be more heedlessly blase about it. We’re completely absorbed in this business of playing with our little toy, in other words. We are so very absorbed, so perfectly absorbed, that we don’t know or care about anything else! We’re oblivious to everything else. We’re in that very strange, very remarkable state of total absorption, and yet what we’re absorbed in is only a game, only a toy. It won’t get us anywhere. It can’t get us anywhere because it’s a perfect nullity. It’s a perfect immaculate nullity, like all games are, like all toy universes are. It’s a ‘null situation’. So we have to ask – we are bound to ask – what does it mean to be totally absorbed in the nullity, with absolutely nothing at all left over? What does it mean? What does it mean?