Monday, April 10, 2006

So, how long is this 'eternity'?

Eternity- an ever present concept (at least in the various religions)

Imagine the earth turned into a solid orb of steel- a smooth, shiny sphere, carbon-tinted silver in colour, drifting lazily in the emptiness of the inner solar system, catching the sun’s rays and reflecting them in all directions.

Also imagine a fly, an ordinary house-fly, with deep red compound eyes, its black exoskeleton tinged with an infinitesimal layer of shimmering metallic blue-green colour and on its thorax, delicate translucent wings that on closer inspection appear to be made of crystal grown from the finest crystal shrubs in the gently rolling hills of southern France.

This fly, ordinary in every sense except for its exceptionally long life, travels far and wide within the solar system. Every thousand years, it arrives at the earth- that gleaming orb of carbon steel- and stops for a moment to rest its crystalline wings, then flies off towards the baking heat of Mercury.

Over time, after countless landings, the fly’s legs have worn away part of the earth’s metal by the gradual effect of friction.

In due course, the earth would be completely worn away, and the fly would have to find another resting place along its interplanetary flights.

And yet, despite the unimaginable duration in the meantime, eternity is not yet halfway over. Why, it has not even started!


On a completely different note, I read an automotive magazine ‘Motor’ just a few hours ago. Or more accurately, I flipped through the publication half heartedly.

There was an article about the Lamborghini Gallardo. Crammed between the columns of text and graphics, were quotes from the article itself in bold, attention grabbing fonts. One of these quotes went,
The exhaust note barks with a visceral noise [...] like Kylie Minogue being ripped apart by a pack of wild dogs.

I put it back onto the shelf with disgust.

Having thought about the issue at some length, I’m still not sure if that sentence was brilliant or just plain crass. It’s either A (in which case the journalist and editors would deserve a Pulitzer, ignoring the rumour that the Pulitzer is a prize awarded for achievements in American journalism, literature or music) or F (where they would be condemned to licking fly legs for eternity) .

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