Sometimes, lying on my back in the backyard, I get the well-known sensation of distant and cold emptiness above me and it fills me with dread. It’s too big, too icy, too unheimlich.
Other times, the endless streams of stars above, rotating and burning and hurtling through nothing, extending out past any imaginable distance, beginning nowhere and ending nowhere.. Other times, that huge uncaring unknowable cavern is the most comforting thing I can imagine. Because it means I don’t matter, and that’s great news.
Nothing is not