I am not competent to talk about the nature of consciousness, but I am responsible for my consciousness.
Visually the dreaming over a cup of coffee looks nice, but that’s the silence that symbolizes not the blooming garden, but the withered flower. Our thoughts bring forth the fruits if the beauty of our silence takes a form of our feedbacks to what we are browsing through at a moment. However, that is not a bargain (I will vote for you, IF you will vote for me), but the hearty ‘Hi!’ that comes as if out of itself and demands nothing for that. The smile blossoms at a moment our creeds are put into the deeds.
Hi! dear reader