"Walk to the north and meet in the south"
Things constantly sway like the surface of water: the usual scenery that spreads before us each day,
our livelihoods, time and the days of the week, and even ourselves.
In reality nothing is certain, but we pretend not to hear it.
It feels as if we hold on tightly to the slightest bit of certainty in order to maintain a semblance of coherence.
Much like the boundary between the red and blue side of a magnet̶where something yet nothing exists
simultaneously̶direction, positional relationship, and even boundaries are ambiguous here.
What actually lies there?
When we face uncertainty, what then are we able to hook ourselves onto?