I have finally given up on wondering why the rest of the world doesn’t think like me, and why humans have never agreed on a truth about our origins, purpose, or destiny. Being Michael, even for a day, is a wonderful way to live, as I currently smudge my writing with the palm of my left hand as I drag these words across the paper. Being an extra-sensory person, I certainly do not need coffee in the morning to function, and with or without caffeine, every day is naturally filled with wonder.
I remember as a teenager, sitting on that back hump in the bed of our old truck as my parents drove to the country on weekends. I would lie on my back with cumulus clouds above me, wondering if the universe was contained in a gigantic box. A space traveler would have to end his journey upon coming to the edge. Space would indeed be finite, and all the things we know would be neatly contained in a six-sided carton. This would prove that the universe does have an end, and does not continue forever.
My deep question for the reader is this: If the universe is sealed inside a giant box, what lies on the outside of the box?
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