Some days are for the big ideas. Envisioning the inconceivable. The immensity of the event horizon, the certain pull of the black hole and the end of entropy. Where does time go? What is our place along its course?
Other days are for smaller things. Lying your head in the grass, tilting to see the flowers beside you. Coffee on sunlit balconies. The thrum of traffic. The sigh of a folding quilt. The petrichor after rain.
Equal in their sustenance of the soul. The scope for human endeavour is broad, from the grain of sand in your palm, to the star at the far flung edge of the universe, the experience is absolute and we are lucky to have it for these few short years.
Paddy Dobson
9th February 2021