A little while ago a very old man lifted a corner of a dirty curtain that hid a very old window. A brilliant shaft of light pierced through, filled the room with a million different hues and blew the old man away. He now sits alone on a hill picking out little stars from his long white beard.
I stopped by and asked him why infinity never tired of waiting.
He picked out little stars from his long white beard and scattered them on the ground. I looked down and saw the little stars changing colours. I noticed I could not see any blue. And I wondered why blue was the most brilliant of all colours.
I asked him what the space between in and out meant to him.
He shrugged his shoulders.
I then asked him why blue was the most brilliant of all colours.
He asked me if I liked fish.
I needed some time to think about this. So I reached into the space between in and out and placed everything that I found there in the palm of my hand. I then held out my hand to the old man and asked him to tell me what he saw there.
He looked at it for a long time. He then stared away into the distance and tugged at his beard. He suddenly stood up. He threw back his head, flung both his arms high into the air, and with a long wail, blew up into a thousand and fifty two pieces.
And left with my doubts about infinity, the colour blue and the space between In and Out which I now held in the palm of my hand.