One point in space and no way of knowing or understanding anything about the art of being a distinct point in space. It knows already everything there is to know, no dichotomy, no binary opposition, because point and space are one. There is no way for it to know if it is a microscopic little particle floating in the vastness of space, or one point consuming all the space. Sometimes I imagine myself to be this little-big dot, floating around in something that fluctuates between a rich world full of experiences and being it, being all that floats and all in which things can float. All the potential of the empty space seem to be compressed into this little-big dot, eagerly awaiting another particle to separate itself from the space, to finally know, to understand about points and dots, lines and shapes, space and time. For now its just what it is, being and wanting, defining in one single point what has always been nothing into something. It is here that my story begins, with me, me without you my friend, and it is here that I hope to return when I am done with me.