Flight19 juni 2017
In the empty darkness – no room, no walls, no sky, no stars – time did not pass. There was nothing that could tremble, nothing that could interact. Here, existence is undefinable and creation is both an event and an unobservable glitch.
There, the void suddenly disturbed. With the help of light, a flight of stairs would have hung in the black. But there was only a dark backdrop. On the top step, a head. It was not conscious, was not alive. No motion was possible in this realm, not because it could not happen, but because no one and nothing had ever tried. The head tried.
Slowly, almost adamant, over the edge, down a step. No thud, a loud scream:
Flash! The flight now visible, still unreadable. If a void contains something perfectly evenly red, it is just a smear. A new perspective required.
Lunge out into the void, see what the world looks like! A side-view. Like blood flowing down a pitch black volcano, the stairs were nothing but a red silhouette against the nullity.
A crack formed, the head split open. There, down in the slush, the most beautiful colors could be seen. Twisting and turning, the stairs – the world! – compacted itself by swirling into a maelstrom and disappearing, sucked into the colorful pit. Closing. Darkness again. Rumbling, shaking! Ever more violently, paving way for the final deed.
Exploding – not splitting, but exploding – into millions of colors, the head vanished. It left behind the most intricate palette of colored matter – but the matter was sad, and stayed that way.