There we stood, fragile beings sipping from the endless cosmic cup. I wondered what a kilogram amounted to on the slumbering surface of Titan, or how gravity whispered different love songs in the vacuum of Andromeda.
Weight is perhaps just our captured conversation with the Earth, rolling the rock uphill, waiting for a destined collapse. But out here, while our spheres swirl like waltzing leaves, do numbers even exist?
If eternity feels like sand in an hourglass, then mass is the hesitation before its fall, nestled deep in the oysters of our infinite thoughts.
Draw your own star
Read the burbled whisperings
Calculate cosmic distances