spartiklar

I couldn’t see the stars that night maybe it was becasue of the fog or the citylights anyway it made me sad I always enjoyed watching the glimmering in the night it comforted me sometimes it scared me the huge universe that some said was endless How could anybody understand that for me it was like a strange mystery that could never be solved I knew it and wondered why and how come people still tried to figure it all out They couldnt face the fact that they would never never know…
I used to think that there were some other form of life perhaps similar to ours and that they knew much much more than we did and they knew about our existence and smiled politely at our eager efforts to discover the mysteries of this universe that was merely an illusion: something not comprehensible something that cant be explained in our language maybe it was that simple that our language our mathematics our knowledge would never be able to explain . maybe. But we would still try and try…and meantime forget about our short shiny time in the mystery. Jesus we were taking part in this mystery all of us had some cind of meaning we were parts in something much much bigger…or perhaps nothing really mattered because everything would anyhow explode at some point in a huge big bang…again.

Hon skriver dessa ord och lämnar avsiktligt bort punkter och kommatecken. Hon vet inte varför hon skriver och vad det handlar om men det känns bra. Kanske är det funderingar som inte fått utlopp under dagarna som gått sedan hon sett programmet om den nya revolutionerande strängteorin. Utöver partiklar fanns även något som kallades spartiklar. Hela teorin började kännas rätt självklar och påminde en aning om barnlek…spartikel, srymden, sevigheten, splaneter,skosmos…
Hon hade varit hemma igen några veckor. Packat upp, skurat golven, tvättat och torkat damm och handlat mat på de välbekanta affärerna. Allt var så bekant. Tryggt liksom. En ny affär hade dykt upp på Eklandagatan. En skum affär insåg hon efter en sekunds titt in. En affär kan väl inte gå runt genom att sälja vykort – smaklösa och guldaskiga.
Hon tände en cigg och tänkte att så mycket var space.