“Thought cannot be separated from me, therefore, I exist. Cogito ergo sum.”
“But you don’t, old son. Your desiccated remains lie in a small hollow in the Panthéon.”
“But by my argument, I am still thinking and therefore I still exist.” Rene took another swig of his wine and burped.
“Define existence,” said Jasfoup, “without referring to an immortal soul which, by definition, cannot be proved.”
“Senses are unreliable. The only indubitable knowledge is that I am a thinking thing. Thinking is my essence as it is the only thing about me that cannot be doubted.”
“Thought," the tortured soul continued, “is what happens in me such that I am immediately conscious of it, insofar as I am conscious of it".
“Rene,” said Jasfoup, filling his glass. “You’re drunk.”