What about all that space? All that space between all things.
What about the space between thoughts, between ideas? What about the space between me and my expectations? The space between who I am and who I think I am. Between the horizon and the reality…
That space between all things might be the most important part of everything actually. Or it might be nothing. Or both.
Spaces between these typed words. The space between those spaces. The space in the space. The people to whom some refer as “a bit space”. The space between quarks, between molecules, between stars, between life and death, between my two ears, between us…
So what about it? And is there a space between me and the fact of not knowing the answer? And if there is then what is it? Where does it come from? What is it created by? What does it consist of? Is it changing? What is it going to become? Is it as insignificantly tiny as I am or as endlessly immense as the fact of not knowing? And which are the units to measure it anyway? The same as the ones that allow measuring the space between my feet and the socks I’m wearing? Or maybe the ones that acknowledge that at night it is colder than outside (la nuit il fait plus froid que déhors)? Or it might be the ones that were used for making sure that 90% of our brain stays dusty and unemployed?And what about the space between the things that are different and the things making them that way? What about the space between the difference and the making? And does that make any difference? Does it make any sense? Does it have to make anything at all? Maybe it just makes more spaces… Here: a space between any difference and my indifference.
What about the space between thoughts, between ideas? What about the space between me and my expectations? The space between who I am and who I think I am. Between the horizon and the reality…
That space between all things might be the most important part of everything actually. Or it might be nothing. Or both.
Spaces between these typed words. The space between those spaces. The space in the space. The people to whom some refer as “a bit space”. The space between quarks, between molecules, between stars, between life and death, between my two ears, between us…
So what about it? And is there a space between me and the fact of not knowing the answer? And if there is then what is it? Where does it come from? What is it created by? What does it consist of? Is it changing? What is it going to become? Is it as insignificantly tiny as I am or as endlessly immense as the fact of not knowing? And which are the units to measure it anyway? The same as the ones that allow measuring the space between my feet and the socks I’m wearing? Or maybe the ones that acknowledge that at night it is colder than outside (la nuit il fait plus froid que déhors)? Or it might be the ones that were used for making sure that 90% of our brain stays dusty and unemployed?And what about the space between the things that are different and the things making them that way? What about the space between the difference and the making? And does that make any difference? Does it make any sense? Does it have to make anything at all? Maybe it just makes more spaces… Here: a space between any difference and my indifference.
