Koan of Fish

I once set up an art installation, reader, which was a box full of dust.

The box contained a fan, such that the dust would swirl around and make fanciful shapes.

Sometimes, you might spy the semblance of a tree, or of the sun.

Once, a fully formed gold fish appeared in the box. It said, “why am I alive? What is free will?” And then just as quickly, the dust swirled and it disappeared.

I was flabbergasted, dear reader. Not because the fish spoke, but because I thought it should be obvious to the fish that free will means nothing in a box full of swirling dust.