Since we are always “in a place,” we are always bounded in some way. Borders define place. Now here’s an irony. “To terminate” has acquired the meaning of “kill.” And we speak of those who commit suicide as terminating their lives. Why irony? Death, as far as we know, is boundless because it is placeless, but terminating implies fixing boundaries.
We can’t fix boundaries outside of “place.” Those who would terminate their lives would bind the unbounded. Call it what you will: juxtaposition, oxymoron, contradiction, irony.
Would that we could explain to those who seek a termination that the process ends in the endless. Would that we could explain how much we are bound to boundaries and how much such binding defines us and gives us meaning.
The farthest horizon is still a finite boundary. And everything that horizon encompasses has an identity because it belongs bounded. You belong. I belong. The person who would terminate belongs. We have meaning in this place, in this bounded existence.
We can’t fix boundaries outside of “place.” Those who would terminate their lives would bind the unbounded. Call it what you will: juxtaposition, oxymoron, contradiction, irony.
Would that we could explain to those who seek a termination that the process ends in the endless. Would that we could explain how much we are bound to boundaries and how much such binding defines us and gives us meaning.
The farthest horizon is still a finite boundary. And everything that horizon encompasses has an identity because it belongs bounded. You belong. I belong. The person who would terminate belongs. We have meaning in this place, in this bounded existence.
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