Now, it's full night, clear, moonless and filled with stars, which are not eternal as we once thought, which are not where we think they are. If they were sounds, they would be echoes, of something that happened millions of year ago: a word made of numbers. Echoes of light, shining out of the midst of nothing.
It's old light, and there's not much of it. But it's enough to see by.
It's old light, and there's not much of it. But it's enough to see by.
( Margaret Atwood )
[ Cat's Eye ]
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