I sip my coffee. I look at the mountain, which is still doing its tricks, as you look at a still-beautiful face belonging to a person who was once your lover in another country years ago: with fond nostalgia, and recognition, but no real feelings save a secret astonishment that you are now strangers. Thanks. For the memories. It is ironic that the one thing that all religions recognize as separating us from our creator--our very self-consciousness--is also the one thing that divides us from our fellow creatures. It was a bitter birthday present from evolution, cutting us off at both ends.
In this reflective moment, the narrator enjoys a cup of coffee while gazing at a mountain, which brings forth memories of a past relationship. The nostalgia is bittersweet, as the beautiful landscape evokes feelings of recognition yet highlights the distance created over time, transforming once-intimate connections into distant memories. The speaker acknowledges the irony of appreciating these recollections, feeling a mix of gratitude and estrangement.
The author, Annie Dillard, delves into a profound observation about self-consciousness. It is portrayed as a dual-edged sword, both a separation from the divine and a barrier between individuals. This awareness, which should ideally foster connection, instead drives a wedge among all living beings, marking a poignant, almost painful gift from evolution that isolates us in our shared experience of existence.
