If I take a pen and a piece of paper, and I place the pentip to that page the ink will bleed and we will have… A dot. To us, it is just that: a dot. For the pen has been lifted away and placed elsewhere, perhaps, to write a new line. But to the page? To the page, that dot is the very definition of “a pen,” as that single point is the only point at which it has experienced a pen, the only place in which the two have met. To us, a dot. The impression of a pen, the mark it has left. To the page, a pen.
I am the dot.
Just a note I woke up to this morning after an interesting journey last night. Hopefully the feeling behind it shows through, and the words make sense.