You feel it as an initial brush against your cheek, a casual glance in the daunting intersection of past, present, and future. It tells you of its existence – softly, gently. Hope doesn’t want you to be acquainted with fear, it’s too early. Not yet. This is a dance. It is waiting for you to take the first step.
It is nothing short of a miracle when you find peace in the complete nothingness of everything. When you feel infinite amidst the fleeting nature of being. For a split-second of momentary greatness, entropy decides to give you the stability of hope.
Hold it dear, hold it close. Know that sometimes, the astounding power of “maybe” is enough.
Some stories amuse, some stories disturb. Some stories leave a dent in your subconscious.
Christopher Priest’s Inverted World is an exploration of the madness in the intersection of persistence and lethargic existence.
It takes your hand and leads you to the parallelism of hope and despair, leaving you to ponder on the perverted irrelevance of infinity.
It forces you to believe in logic, then immerses you in its desolation. Offers you stability, then bathes you in fragile futility.
Perhaps the easiest explanation as to why Inverted World appealed so much to the small fraction of my uninitiated fanaticism is the faintest hint of the marriage of absolute binaries – how two unimaginable opposites exist in the same volatile thread among the unraveling strings of rationality.
Words 
