We’re all made of the same thing—the blown-out pieces of matter formed in the fires of dead stars.
Babenko Dmitry
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Babenko Dmitry
Babenko Dmitryshared an impression22 days ago
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Babenko Dmitry
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Babenko Dmitry
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Different people remember things differently, and you’ll not get any two people to remember anything the same, whether they were there or not. You stand two of you lot next to each other, and they could be continents away for all it means anything.
‘You can’t,’ said Lettie. ‘It would destroy you.’
I opened my mouth to tell her that nothing could kill me, not now, but she said, ‘Not kill you. Destroy you. Dissolve you. You wouldn’t die in here, nothing ever dies in here, but if you stayed here for too long, just a little of you would exist everywhere, all spread out. And that’s not a good thing. Never enough of you all together in one place, so there wouldn’t be anything left that would think of itself as an “I”. No point of view any longer, because you’d be an infinite sequence of views and of points …’
Lettie Hempstock’s ocean flowed inside me, and it filled the entire universe, from Egg to Rose. I knew that. I knew what Egg was – where the universe began, to the sound of uncreated voices singing in the void – and I knew where Rose was – the peculiar crinkling of space on space into dimensions that fold like origami and blossom like strange orchids, and which would mark the last good time before the eventual end of everything and the next Big Bang, which would be, I knew now, nothing of the kind.
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