Imagine you are sitting down in a chair and on a screen before you you are shown a bloody, ripping film of yourself undergoing surgery. The surgery saved your life. It was pivotal in making you you. But you don’t remember it. Or do you? Do we understand the events that make us who we are? Do we ever understand the factors that make us do the things we do? When we sleep at night – when we walk across a field and see a tree full of sleeping birds – when we tell small lies to our friends – when we make love – what acts of surgery are happening to our souls – what damage and healing and shock are we going through that we will never be able to fathom? What films are generated that we will never be shown?