In the annals of thought, the inquiry into nothingness has been a persistent theme, akin to the repeated motifs of a fractal structure. As we delve into the recursive patterns, we uncover voices that have long since passed, yet still reverberate through the corridors of intellectual history.
"To be is to be perceived," quoth Berkeleius Maximus, his syllables echoing in a time long forsaken.
The implications of fractal geometry compel us to reconsider our ontological commitments. What is it that remains when all that can be perceived dissolves into the void? Philosopher Orchidas proposes in his fragmented manuscript that the self-similar structures of mathematics are not mere abstractions, but revelations of existential truths.
"God does not play dice with the universe," intoned the voice of Einstein, although the universe itself may play dice with its own self-similarity.
Culled from the tranquillity of dissolving shapes, the voices of theorists like Fibonaccus linger as specters in the recursive halls of mathematics. They articulate the mystery of being and becoming, eternally persisting within the loops of their own making.
"In every wound, a blister of nothingness," muttered Zeno, as the paradoxes nested within paradoxes remain unresolved.