"Close your eyes." They say. 

I obey; shutting the world of structure, order, sensation out, and I peer into the storm within. For inside, there is only the fractal static, an indescribable galaxy of misfiring cones & rods branching off into new shapes, new forms, new patterns, all spiraling ever inwards towards the ravenous black hole of consciousness buried at the root of all that is; The imperceptibly intricate storm of swirling colour & malformed vectors - neon yellow, orange, red, green, blue - sparking and dancing and flickering to life before they morph, twist, fade, die and are reborn in the ceaseless cycle that is me.

"Now I want you to picture an Apple in your mind's eye." They say, as if such a thing were no more troublesome than breathing.

I peer deeper into the abyss, searching for the elusive Apple they speak of. Yet all I see is an incoherent eruption of minute fractals of blue-green-yellow-red-orange rendered in such intricate detail that they blur together into a mass of muddy grey-brown billowing storm-clouds that form into a ceaseless hurricane of misfiring neurons; Meteorological mayhem of the soul.

"Now rotate the Apple." They say. "Picture what it looks like on all sides."

Ignoring the impossible task they've set before me, I opt instead for something more tangible. Drawing upon my collective experiences of the simple tree-fruit, I assemble a list of the Apple's attributes:

- There's the shape of it in my palm, and the ever-so-slight give I feel when I clench my fist. 
- There's the waxy green-red sheen of it's skin, and the barest trace scent of the produce aisle still lingering upon it.
- There's the momentary resistance I feel before it gives way under my teeth, and the sweet-juicy taste of the juicy flesh beneath. 
- There's the crisp crunch that resonates through my jaw that fades into the familiar pulpy grinding of molars as it's ground mush.
- There's the momentary distension as I swallow, leaving naught behind but a sour aftertaste that lingers long afterwards.

"What does the Apple look like?" They ask.

*Look like?* What a ridiculous request. Who can 'look' at what cannot be seen? 

Yet there is such certainty in their request, such passive assurance that one can close their eyes and **see** that which does not exist. Am I crazy? Or is the Apple just an elaborate metaphor? Is this 'mind's eye' nothing but a narrative device, an elaborate ruse of collective imagination?

How can one see what doesn't exist?

"Concentrate." They say. "Focus as hard as you can on the Apple."

I clench my eyes closed, brow knit tight, focusing with all my might to conjure up the elusive Apple; to force the formless fractals to coalesce into singular *thing*.

Nothing. No Apple manifests. There is only the ceaseless, crystalline chaos, the static storm-clouds of the soul roiling & raging; Subject to my will no more than the clouds in the sky are subject to the wing-beats of a butterfly.

*How can one focus on that which doesn't exist?*

"Now describe the Apple to me." They say.

*Describe it!?*

Are you kidding me?

I can comprehend the **idea** of the Apple, all the conceptual constituent components are as clear as crystal in my memories; Yet with no eyes to see it, no tongue to taste it, no ears to hear it, no fingers to grasp it remains unseen, unfelt, unheard, unreal - a spectre forever damned to never be.

This is too much. I finally reply, voice tight with frustration & confusion. "I can't see it! I can't see anything! Tell me, how can I describe an Apple that doesn't exist?"

"Use your words." They say, not pausing for even a second to consider the profound implications of such a simple question. "Describe it to me so I can see it."

Hang on...

*You can do that!?*

Do these words - my words - my syllabic, symbolic, syntactically arranged screeching have the power to summon an apparition in the mind of another? To conjure forth the sight, the smell, the taste, the feel, the sound of this non-existent Apple?

Haven't I been doing that the whole time? Is it really that easy?

...

Tell me, dear Reader;

Can you see the Apple in my head?