(no subject)
I was at Borders a few days ago, reading about point A, point B, and the relative space of black holes: the shortest distance is more complicated than a straight line. Once you cross the event horizon and look up, in that split second of shifting eyes, an eternity will have passed. Black holes bend light and time, they say.
The saddest place must lie in that just-crossed border. In an instant, to see everything palpable and breathable die in a series of big bangs, perhaps, or something quieter-that can’t be true.
I used to assume I would study the universe, follow its patterns to some glass and golden world. I should have known then that the window was enough, that after I learned of the physics behind stars: trajectories, speeds, their lights reach us even after the source has died; I could never believe in numbers, the dry probability that all things end.
So for now, as long as numbers prove, I’d like to believe that everything visible is reachable, that the world is giant in the context of infinity, that I can give the Earth a first name for it to conquer and carry long after its sun has gone.
Oh, by the way, I graduated.