Holes in the World

Sarte described conciousness as a kind of hole in the world. I’m not sure if I entirely agree with him. I’ve been thinking of conciousness more like a space where everything happens, a constant bubbling over, a whirlpool of sparks firing and connections made and the absence of that movement as a void, a hollow.
When conciousness is gone there is a hole left in its place, an absence. Although surrounded by traces of what has been, the void itself remains unfilled.
Or does it?
Perhaps it does get filled with projections of what was there, not memory as such, but the projected ideas of the conciousnesses surrounding the void. Projections pieced together from the traces left. Not a ‘real’ but an idea of the ‘real’. Insubstantial to a degree but still there. A hollow filled with the collective shadows of other people.

A bottle is never really empty. Once it’s liquid poured, a label still describes its contents. Traces remain too small to be seen, scent can be detected, taste lingers on my tongue and even when those are washed away the bottle is still full. Full of air, of breath, of moisture and dust.


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