Journal entry circa 54 R.A.

Using a meticulously honed razor, I cut a square piece of parchment paper exactly in half. Removing one half of the paper, I then proceeded to cut the remaining piece of paper into half. Repeating the same procedure as previously described, I whittled away that piece of parchment until it was too small to handle with my cumbersome fingers. I brought a self-made looking glass into play whose bright asset was to direct light through a sequence of polished glass lenses until the object of scrutiny was thus enlarged by a factor of several magnitudes. I clumsily wielded the razor, wickedly sharp at a glance but blunt seeming and graceless at this scope, to cut haggardly and raggedly at the tiny paper fleck that I held in place with a thin piece of steel. After several attempts to diminish further that minuscule piece of paper, I gave up my efforts. Chop up something into half long enough it retains the illusion of shrinking into nothingness… when the opposite is true. A conundrum of scale. Is there such a thing as a smallest possible? Is the world composed like the wooden building blocks my young self played with, to be placed into different arrangements by a divine hand with a plan, perhaps, or the whims of absolute chance? Such questions puzzle me, and fill my spine with a chill, at the blatant lack of knowledge we men exhibit of the world our very essences exist within.

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