Nov
11
In the Land of O₂
We sleep in darkness even when the light is full. We live in a bubble of light inside the greatest darkness.
The moon rises over the left shoulder even as the earth rises over the right. Yet the moon next might lower over your right. Sunrise is always simultaneously sunset.
Head east far enough and you will reach the west.
Only gravity gives us perspective. Without our feet held to the ground, there is no up—only around.
Gravity is our tether.
When the tether gives, she rolls and tumbles—her voice possible only because she is living in a bubble of oxygen, a bubble of light. She tumbles towards the great blue light, sometimes up, sometimes down, only her feet tell her which.
We live in a bubble of oxygen so small we can breathe it all up. And we breathe it in. We take it down into us.
The moon rises over the left shoulder even as the earth rises over the right. Yet the moon next might lower over your right. Sunrise is always simultaneously sunset.
Head east far enough and you will reach the west.
Only gravity gives us perspective. Without our feet held to the ground, there is no up—only around.
Gravity is our tether.
When the tether gives, she rolls and tumbles—her voice possible only because she is living in a bubble of oxygen, a bubble of light. She tumbles towards the great blue light, sometimes up, sometimes down, only her feet tell her which.
We live in a bubble of oxygen so small we can breathe it all up. And we breathe it in. We take it down into us.
