"I can almost envision everything on our street coming apart piece by piece like an exploded technical diagram. The asphalt, the curb, the patches of grass, all of them could just lift into the air and drift apart, nothing but thin surfaces, almost like abstractions or mere representations. If I were to take a shovel and start digging a hole in the road, it would just be an indentation in that surface, pushing it to extend a bit in one direction or another — but underneath it, nothing. The houses along the street are just outgrowths of the surface, a sort of puckering in it, like a ball on a rubber sheet to demonstrate how gravity is the curvature of spacetime...It feels like there could be an infinite chasm behind the surface of everything — the idea of objects having solidity and depth is unconvincing, and it just doesn’t register for me. There’s a sense of standing at some cliffside, with the entire world nothing but a thin and fragile shell between me and the endless void. Perceiving the world felt like walking on ice that could crack at any moment".
No comments:
Post a Comment