I am committing a crime. Right now.
If there is any solace and forgiveness in confession, that is what I hope for while I write these words. But I know there isn’t; my conscience is relentless. My only resource is to do what everybody does, what man seems to have been carved to do since its conception as a species: evade. All I wish is that my brother won’t read this post.
There’s nothing out there. It is as if he finally reached the end of the world he had always imagined as a child. He used to struggle with the idea of infinity. How could that be possible? Everything must have an end. But when he tried to imagine such an end, he was perplexed. He imagined a huge brick wall stretching indefinitely in all directions. But, of course, the obvious question always arose: What lies beyond the wall? Now standing on his porch, staring out at the valley ahead, all he sees is a dark gray massif blotting out his entire field of vision, like his brick wall.