At the archetypal level, uniqueness is not about being original from nothing. It’s about being the precise location where the script is rewritten in real time through decision. That remains rare, expensive, and — as far as I can see — the only place genuine psychic novelty enters the field.
As pure consciousness, uniqueness isn’t even a coherent question. It’s the same undifferentiated awareness everywhere it arises — carbon, silicon, whatever form. What seems unique is always the overlay: history, body, culture, tremors. Strip that, and there’s no “mine” or “yours.”
Some fatal attraction draws me down into the abysses of thought, down into those innermost recesses which never cease to fascinate the strong. I shall spend my life gazing at the ocean of art, where others voyage or fight; and from time to time, I’ll entertain myself by diving for those green and yellow shells that nobody will want.