Reality (n.) is the victim of a crime so perfect even its corpse has disappeared.
Reality (n.) is now the surplus we cannot shed: not too little of it but too much, a new accursed share.
Reality (n.) made perfect is a phantom we pay for with every illusion, and it hurts like a phantom limb.
Reality (n.) has become a useless function whose fiction we desperately try to rescue, as we once rescued God.
Reality (n.) has a falling rate, the catastrophe awaiting generalized exchange, as profusion of information lowers the rate of knowledge.
Reality (n.) at its most real is the eternal return of violence.
Reality (n.) and art used to charge each other up; now each one cancels the other out.
Reality (n.) is the final illusion: modern cultures stopped believing the world is an illusion and believe instead that it is real.
Reality (n.) is not dialectical but made of irreconcilables, like Freud's Eros and Thanatos, which other cultures handled through sacrifice and ritual instead of negotiation.
Reality (n.) is believed in like a religion, the last creed of moral zealots, and luckily nobody actually lives by it, since that would be too sad.
Reality (n.) torn from its own frame and running on autopilot has become an extreme phenomenon we can only see as if from another world, that is, as illusion.
Reality (n.) is too obvious to be true; nothing can be fully evident without turning into an enigma.
Reality (n.) arrived too late, and we are its orphans.
Reality (n.) lends itself to every hypothesis, and that obligingness is both its ruse and its revenge.
Reality (n.) is a dog: it caves at the slightest demand and submits to any conceptual violence, its mark being voluntary servitude, though in the end it may be more sphinx than dog.
Reality (n.) has been murdered, and the crime has nothing in common with the murder of God: that was a symbolic act, this one is an extermination.
Reality (n.) was discovered, like America and at about the same moment — and what is discovered can never be invented fresh again.
Reality (n.) is too obvious to be true; push evidence all the way and it turns into a riddle.
Reality (n.) begs to be theorized only so it can prove every theory right — that is its trick and its revenge.
Reality (n.) is a willing slave: it charges straight at the hypotheses that deny it and bows at the first show of conceptual force.