115 words

Miles of sand melt into a featureless horizon. Is each grain of sand different? A vital piece of an architectural puzzle?

I am in a rush to go nowhere in particular.

We are a tiny fragment of an incomprehensibly large universe and a gigantic sum of imperceptibly small atoms. Both the massive and the minuscule are empty. From one star to the next is the vacuum; from the ground state to the excited is the void.

Life is short on a cosmic timescale and long compared to the half-lives of super-heavy atoms.

In a lifetime, a few flickering memories pierce the plasma of monotony, until they too collapse as dying stars into oblivion.

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2 thoughts on “115 words

  1. Amazing clarity in thoughts and words! I’d once concluded something ‘similar’: “though we live our life as a continuum, life happens only as tiny scintillations”. :)

  2. Thanks, Ketan. The first line I wrote was the last one. I was lying in bed thinking about the “density” of memories. I could probably pack up all my memories into a box much smaller than my entire life.

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