11-24-2019, 11:16 AM
(This post was last modified: 11-24-2019, 12:27 PM by Quixilated.)
It doesn’t make sense, how small we are.
If space were a soup full of galaxy balls and star beans, with moons for salt and asteroid pepper, we wouldn’t even register, let alone impact even the most discerning palate.
We are like germs crawling all over a hint of basil, worshiping the nearest bean, and wondering if there are other friendly germs out there.
We feel so big inside our minds, as we think deep thoughts and dream grand dreams. It doesn’t even occur to us that the nearest sentient being might be this very moment scooping us into a cosmic spoon oblivious to the importance of our existence.
If space were a soup full of galaxy balls and star beans, with moons for salt and asteroid pepper, we wouldn’t even register, let alone impact even the most discerning palate.
We are like germs crawling all over a hint of basil, worshiping the nearest bean, and wondering if there are other friendly germs out there.
We feel so big inside our minds, as we think deep thoughts and dream grand dreams. It doesn’t even occur to us that the nearest sentient being might be this very moment scooping us into a cosmic spoon oblivious to the importance of our existence.
The Soufflé isn’t the soufflé; the soufflé is the recipe. --Clara