Humilitas Occidit Superbiam
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. Air cannot travel without instantly freezing; the only bodies allowed to exhale are those that burst into a giant display of chaos, spitting life-creating elements onto the deepest reaches of our minds and everything else’s orbital space. I have been screaming for years now whilst my blood, sweat and tears boil into crystals, and my heart churns into the perceived rhythm of the Sun, submitting the all-presence into eternal orbit towards the center of the Milky Way. A cyclical shift into hypomania has been long overdue, but things don’t move the same way out of Earth. One cannot submit to the crushing defeat of the perceived absence of matter, life, light, love. Quicker shall be the perpetual particle journey through space, for now only I could simulate the inaudible representation of pain. This absence of sound reminded me of the time I first became a mathematician.