Semicolon

This book is like a crossword with verticals and horizontals: you piece together a mosaic of what the author wanted to say — and did say. A sense of cyclicality appears, as if you were reading the stream of consciousness of an embryo not yet born that has already lived a life. Perhaps only while in the womb do we possess all the knowledge of the universe? In order to be born and try to remember the forgotten great knowledge?