I am nowhere in space while my being somewhere in the world. I share the world, but not my space in the world. I can point to another space, but at the same moment, never occupy it. I can reach out, talk into, press up against space but never leave my own. I’m imprisoned by it but, also, embody it. I’ve been thrown into the world, squeezed into this form, which penetrates places and grasps objects that I carry forward through time. The direction I move is always the same, always away from my-self and into a world that others occupy before me, moving within their own space and their own unique direction. Outside myself is the space of space that outlines reality, never altering itself, but turning the “space-dwellers” who embody it, into aimlessly wandering spirits destined to take their space with them when they are no longer here or anywhere.
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