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The ‘parable genre’ of fiction –the archetype in my mind being Borges’s “Inferno, I, 32” –has a unique way of accelerating the telescopic way we travel from the particular to the general, and back again, in everyday life. These parables, due to their length, are necessarily unsettled. The immediacy of reading something all at once, rapid fire –“it  hit the spectator like a bullet” –blurs the contours between inside mind and outside world, what is real and mind-dependent. “Sometimes a glimpse can be enough” says anthropologist Michael Taussig—a fleeting image that occupies the reader more corporeally than conceptually, before the surface level of cognition can catch up and figure things out.