Sometimes I find it really weird when I remember that we are all, in fact, atoms who came into existence when the dying stars pushed us outside their wombs. We are all basically star orgasm that is squirted into infinity of space, and now we have come to this one place where we keep on questioning ourselves - who are we? Where did we come from? What is the meaning? WHERE is the meaning?
What we are not aware of is that we are only matter, studying itself.
It is so simple.
Meaning is meaningless. And pointless.
It is so simple.
Meaning is meaningless. And pointless.
Was wird daraus, wenn der Bruno mal tot geht? Wo landen diese Sachen? Wo landen diese Instrumente? Was wird daraus?
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