According to Osho, fiction is only a small, framed reflection of life—an image in the mind’s mirror—while life itself is boundless, beginningless, and endlessly unfolding. Stories must start and end; life never does. Art can hint at the mystery but remains a pale imitation. Only by dropping the mind’s frames does one encounter life’s limitless, psychedelic reality.
Stories are like looking at the sky through a small window; life is the whole endless sky.