Who’s to say there isn’t another universe—parallel, perpendicular, wavy. Is it straight, over time, or branching? Or maybe, right now, we’re poised over an abyss - nothing in front of us but blackness. Or bright white. And in the next instant everything becomes filled with color and noise or silence or music only to be white or black again. An empty frame, expectant to be filled. Or not expectant. Maybe content to sit empty for as long as it takes.
I pause as I write this, and a few frames fill with a stagnant photo: pen above paper and eyes pointed into the distance. Thorough silence, and then pen back on paper. I’d like to get a photo printer for my iPhone to capture all these frames.
Or it could be the opposite and we’re streaming full speed ahead on the tracks, like the trains here at 4 AM, destination not in mind, but still waiting at the end. But I prefer the first version.