We're tiny, you know. I am me. In my room, in my home, in my apartment complex, in my neighborhood, in my city, in my county, etc. etc. There are people above me, people below me. Next to me. Beside me. I drive with so many different strangers on a daily basis, and we might never ever speak words to each other. I might appear in random dreams here and there, as a random person in the background, a familiar face yet so unknown.
Today I learned that seashells are merely skeleton remains of mollusks that, well, once lived. Like seriously, do you know how many mollusks must die every day for us to so casually encounter countless shells on the shore? Remember Coney Island? So many shells. So many small remains. At least some shells are still useful for living creatures, like hermit crabs or whatever. Or for those looking for supposedly aesthetically pleasing and natural souvenirs.
We step on these shells, never giving them a second thought.
We are small. Imagine how much smaller we'd be if we were mollusks. I recently read an article arguing that we are made of so many tiny tiny particles, that we are very complex organisms. My sister once quipped that we are actually made of dead star particles. I like that idea...
Yes, I am small, but it's okay. I like this sliver of space I take up in the universe. I like to think that my existence is worth something, a necessary and essential part that makes the universe continue. And that those I love exist for the same reason.
In all my thoughts and wanderings, I think it's time to share a tiny whale picture:
|(courtesy of su-ami)|