képek, betűk

The branchings fall apart.
Meanwhile, they are rebuilt elsewhere.
I think of them as graphs.
Yet in the universe, there are no graphs.
I am not sufficient for this.
Even a single grain of dust is too complex.
The dance of three quarks — I do not understand it.
It simply exists; it happens.
It has no story.
Like the light of the stars in the sky.
The instant it reaches your retina.
At the distant star, it is the same.
Only its light arrives years later.
You are seeing your past. You are watching the past.
Even now, when you look at a glass.
That is the past.
You nod, convinced you understand.
Human reality is what we have grown used to.
Human reality is the reality of our biology.
Humanity’s true tragedy is falsified time.
That does not even exist?
Delayed causality.
Three dimensions.
Mathematics is our only tool,
which, in its imperfection, brings us closest to reality.
Yet even so, it runs into singularities.
We are tiny, lost ships.