Sitting in front of a blank computer monitor, waiting to be struck by a bolt of enlightenment, leaves me both empty and fulfilled. I am neither dead nor alive until that bolt of enlightenment bathes me and my state of waiting in a pool of engagement. Schrödinger’s cat paces impatiently, its eyes trained on the crowded vacancy. If the cat could calculate the volume of space found inside a lower case “o,” shrimp boats would never again be lost at sea.
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