Here is the universe, immortalized. We see its birth, a magnificent roiling explosion of space-time itself. It expands ever outward, rushing away not slower, but faster. We see the first bits of virgin matter form into clouds. These clouds collapse over millenia into the universe's first teetering stars. Collapsing and exploding while eons run past, these stars disperse higher forms of matter throughout the universe. Generations of this yields the planets, comets, asteroids, and humans. The whole system flows and orbits. Everything affects everything else. Whole galaxies migrate and eventually gather in superclusters. The universe's expansion accelerates and these clusters are left isolated, separated by countless light years. They continue in this manner until they don't. At this point, we see the wheels stop spinning, the game is over. All motion ceases. Here is infinity. Now we turn the page.
Here is the ocean. A complex series of currents, movement, gravity, earth, and wind sits frozen in time. Along a coast, one wave rears up. On its front, a scintillating white froth can be seen, ready to break into a seething torrent. A bird knifes into the wave, half submerged, its wings tucked back. Its prey lingers just below it, oblivious to the danger. In the wave's trough, a surfer is tipped forward, caught mid-paddle, beads of water clinging to his arms and legs. The wave glitters in the sun, austere.
These two moments are but a page's width apart. So again we turn the page.
Candle Light by Mari.rodrigues (source image)
Cleaver by shoofle
