A special matter in this empty world is connection. Its possibility, its necessity. Its irresistible charm, its siren call. What exactly is it, in this empty world? If it is an illusion, then what for? And if it is real, then what is actually connecting here, and according to what principles?

It’s hard to resist the temptation to believe that something is clearly connecting — and for a reason. Someone with someone, even. That it is the principle in itself. Cause and purpose. It’s easy then not to ask further questions, not to seek. To just wait.

Strange. Head hurts.