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Outer space, or simply space, is the void that exists between celestial bodiesIt
is not completely empty, but consists of a vacuum owing to the low density of
particles.
When we were young we used to play a game. I would clench my hands into
two fsts and line them up side by side. Next I would press them together as
hard and as frmly as I could and you would count for sixty seconds. Afer the
time was up I would slowly drag my fsts away from each other. It felt as if they
were latched together by some phantom celestial force outside of my body.
I felt this way. By separating into a space we could form some impossible void
that, owing to a tired vacancy, would snap us back together with even more
force.
You can also play this game in reverse. Have your friend clamp your two hands
together, and then try to pry them apart for sixty seconds. When your friend
releases your hands the opposite will happen. Your fsts feel like two giant
wrong-sided magnets. It will feel like the two poles of the earth, or the gravi-
tational pull of the moon, or the centrifugal spin of the planet is pulling you
apart. It will feel as if you cannot bring these two bodies back together.
Outer space, or simply space, is the void that exists between celestial bodiesIt
is not completely empty, but consists of a vacuum owing to the low density of
particles.
When we were young we used to play a game. I would clench my hands into
two fsts and line them up side by side. Next I would press them together as
hard and as frmly as I could and you would count for sixty seconds. Afer the
time was up I would slowly drag my fsts away from each other. It felt as if they
were latched together by some phantom celestial force outside of my body.
I felt this way. By separating into a space we could form some impossible void
that, owing to a tired vacancy, would snap us back together with even more
force.
You can also play this game in reverse. Have your friend clamp your two hands
together, and then try to pry them apart for sixty seconds. When your friend
releases your hands the opposite will happen. Your fsts feel like two giant
wrong-sided magnets. It will feel like the two poles of the earth, or the gravi-
tational pull of the moon, or the centrifugal spin of the planet is pulling you
apart. It will feel as if you cannot bring these two bodies back together.
issue four | 86
vacancies and other celestial ponderings | 85
Syzygy is the only word in the English language with three ys. Tere are
several defnitions:
1. Te conjunction of two organisms without loss of identity. Te
separation between the organisms might be imperceptible. Any one of the
segments of an arm composed of two joints so closely united that the line
of union is obliterated on the outer, though visible on the inner, side.
I fnd the italicized part to be particularly interesting. It suggests that the seam
between individual organisms can be invisible externally. But if you were to
turn us inside out we would be composed of an infnite amount of fssures and
divides belying our continuity.
2. Conjunction and opposition of two heavenly bodies, or either of the
points at which these take place, especially in the case of the moon with
the sun (new and full moon).
Similarly, this suggests that there will always be a reverse and opposing force
to a union between two separate things. Two separate bodies.
If two bodies are nearly inseparable; if there exists a vacuum between the
wasted space; if they are woven together by the feeting existence of trans-
parent skin and rigid bone; if they exist in relation to each other by means of
incremental changethen draw me this line of separation.
I have been told before that I lack sufcient boundaries, that I cannot tell
where I end and where someone else begins. I have been reminded that we do
not partake in the same icy deep spring of thoughts buried beneath the earth
from which I extract and construct my conscious self.
But perhaps we all lack these boundaries; some of us are just more interested
in the bodily vessel and that fallible space in between than others.
You think that I cannot possibly understand this space because we have not
shared all experiences. But I know the feeling of claustrophobia.
Two years before, you exhaled the stars into the hollow of the night. Tey were
not beautiful or sparkling or existential or older than the earth. Tey were just
a sign that you were still breathing, clouding the navy dome of the sky with
your magnetic glowing sadness.
I wish I could say that I saw this, unfurling outside on the lawn in front of
the lazy housing complex, curled against the humming rasping soil. Instead
it was viewed from the narrow skylight in the ceiling of your bedroom, with
worn white sheets so tight that we were bound together. I stayed, not because
I could not extricate myself from the small space lef between two unmoving
bodies. I stayed because I feared that if I lef, the stars would be extinguished.
I feared that if I lef, you would gasp the night sky right back into your
trembling lungs and I would be lef with no stars to guide me back out of that
empty house.
I know I lef, but I do not recall how.
issue four | 86
vacancies and other celestial ponderings | 85
Syzygy is the only word in the English language with three ys. Tere are
several defnitions:
1. Te conjunction of two organisms without loss of identity. Te
separation between the organisms might be imperceptible. Any one of the
segments of an arm composed of two joints so closely united that the line
of union is obliterated on the outer, though visible on the inner, side.
I fnd the italicized part to be particularly interesting. It suggests that the seam
between individual organisms can be invisible externally. But if you were to
turn us inside out we would be composed of an infnite amount of fssures and
divides belying our continuity.
2. Conjunction and opposition of two heavenly bodies, or either of the
points at which these take place, especially in the case of the moon with
the sun (new and full moon).
Similarly, this suggests that there will always be a reverse and opposing force
to a union between two separate things. Two separate bodies.
If two bodies are nearly inseparable; if there exists a vacuum between the
wasted space; if they are woven together by the feeting existence of trans-
parent skin and rigid bone; if they exist in relation to each other by means of
incremental changethen draw me this line of separation.
I have been told before that I lack sufcient boundaries, that I cannot tell
where I end and where someone else begins. I have been reminded that we do
not partake in the same icy deep spring of thoughts buried beneath the earth
from which I extract and construct my conscious self.
But perhaps we all lack these boundaries; some of us are just more interested
in the bodily vessel and that fallible space in between than others.
You think that I cannot possibly understand this space because we have not
shared all experiences. But I know the feeling of claustrophobia.
Two years before, you exhaled the stars into the hollow of the night. Tey were
not beautiful or sparkling or existential or older than the earth. Tey were just
a sign that you were still breathing, clouding the navy dome of the sky with
your magnetic glowing sadness.
I wish I could say that I saw this, unfurling outside on the lawn in front of
the lazy housing complex, curled against the humming rasping soil. Instead
it was viewed from the narrow skylight in the ceiling of your bedroom, with
worn white sheets so tight that we were bound together. I stayed, not because
I could not extricate myself from the small space lef between two unmoving
bodies. I stayed because I feared that if I lef, the stars would be extinguished.
I feared that if I lef, you would gasp the night sky right back into your
trembling lungs and I would be lef with no stars to guide me back out of that
empty house.
I know I lef, but I do not recall how.
issue four | 88
Hannah Fyfe Selfe 03
To the blonde haired girl: did you emerge gasping for air, breathing in but never
breathing out? Did you rake your hands, clawed hands, through the stagnant space,
piercing the circles and circles: lashing through into the night?
blonde blonde
blonde blonde
You cant see blonde
in the dark.
We stuck our hands into the stainless steel industrial dishwashing station. I wanted to
take each of your hands in mine and then pin them to your sides. I wanted to yank your
small frame onto the foor and stack on top of you, the heaviness of the stars and the
moon, beneath the bitter well of thoughts that are carefully stored in boxes in my base-
ment. Lie face down on the ground. I want to see the rise and fall from above this time,
from my towheaded perch. I would stay to give you company, but only until I could
dispose of the tangled trail of space that hovers between us, only until I could dispose of
that part of my self.
Tere is a space between two solid buildings where time condenses. A separation. A
sliver of vacancy.
Yet, on more than one occasion, I have wondered if you and I are not the same person.
Perhaps the body is nothing more or less than a feshy frame or a feeble static boundary
that lies in between everything else.
We stuck our hands into the stainless steel industrial dishwashing station. I wanted to
take each of your hands in mine and then pin them to your sides. I wanted to yank your
small frame onto the foor and stack on top of you, the heaviness of the stars and the
moon, beneath the bitter well of thoughts that are carefully stored in boxes in my base-
ment. Lie face down on the ground. I want to see the rise and fall from above this time,
from my towheaded perch. I would stay to give you company, but only until I could
dispose of the tangled trail of space that hovers between us, only until I could dispose of
that part of my self.
Tere is a space between two solid buildings where time condenses. A separation. A
sliver of vacancy.
Yet, on more than one occasion, I have wondered if you and I are not the same person.
Perhaps the body is nothing more or less than a feshy frame or a feeble static boundary
that lies in between everything else.