When the warm air came closer to the eye, they rose and pushed against fluctuating mountains.
The dark-sky-locations became two parts lighter.
The hold of temperature reflected the surface of clouds, spherical, forming under lines of heavy experience.
"...but what happens when you die? where do you go?" He asked passionately. "You can't just stop?"
"Well, what makes you think everything has to be infinite?" She asked.
"What about your soul?" He replied.
She took time to think of a response.
"If time is infinite, than it has to be infinite in both directions. Infinitely into the future, and infinitely into the past,
wherever there is space."
"So what do you think of a soul?" She continued. "A mirror image of your perceived self.
But the mirror image is only momentary, a finite image. This means that if our soul manifests itself physically in space,
it must have existed infinitely in the past, before any probability of your individual existence had ever occurred."
It is impossible to recapture how the night sky looked as they shaped it with their conversation.
One day, he believed he would create an instrument for measuring clarity.
They float upwards like droplets towards constellations.
They fall asleep.
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