"If a thought aligns with the horizon," began the voice that had no direction, "does it not also suspend itself between realms?"

"True, yet the realms are fabrications of distances unseen," replied the shadow leaping over unlit spaces, "do you dance upon certainty or float among possibilities?"

"Therein lies the paradox," declared a whisper that was both near and far, "to be transient is to be paradoxical, is it not?"

"Perhaps," acknowledged the echo from nowhere, "but paradox demands no explanation in the absence of gravity."