Mansion of a thousand eyes

Your head is spinning (I can feel the breeze from here). What’s the point of my scrambling your brain with these crazy notions? No one ought to be left dangling like that.
 
Yes, you’re absolutely right. I’m one hundred per cent in agreement, so let me do something about it. What say I ease you down to earth as I wrap things up?
 
I’ll ask you to turn to the looking glass. For a final time, look into the eyes of the jabberwocky. What do you see?

Do you sense a superbeing? You sense a presence that is greater than just yourself, right? It returns your gaze. It looks through those windows onto the world and finds it pleasing.  It is borrowing your eyes, as it borrows them all. It enjoys its own creation through its creatures. Yours is a mansion of a thousand eyes.
 
A mansion is one thing.
 
However, a block of flats would be quite another.
 
As regards your quality of life, the second option is infinitely better. Think about it. If you have a thousand eyes—the compound eye of a fly, say—that doesn’t really expand your universe of experiences and interactions. You’re just knocking about in a huge drafty building. But subdivide it into apartments, and then the Joneses move in. You’ve suddenly got company. A whole neighborhood.
 
Practically speaking, the whole on its own is not much more than nothing. Getting a relationship going when you’re the only player in the room is rather tricky. Perhaps your only option is to dice and slice yourself into bits and pieces. Then fire each animalcule up with a wee quota of self awareness. Instil into each critter the sense of apartheid, set them loose and watch them go.

Flitting here and there, sampling a little of this and that—this is how the universal set enjoys the show. How passionately everyone plays their part! The ebb and flow occur in deadly earnest. Every creature sees its life for real. It’s really a matter of life and death for everyone while the game is on.
 
But behind the scenes it’s only cowboys and Indians, cops and robbers.