I thought today about the black box, about story, about how the past is nested in to the present.
Sight first evolved in the oceans, gentle sensory depressions in the surface of vastly distant ancestors. Now through all these generations the sea is still nested within our eyes, those salty tears diluted over time to one third the concentration but still surrounding and protecting a delicate surface easily damaged by dryness.
I thought about ancient proto-humans gathering around a fire in the evening, the sky dark, perhaps in the safe depths of a cave, telling stories to each other.
Here we are in this theatre and the night sky is still with us, we have brought the safe embrace of the cave with us in these walls we have painted black and now burning overhead not at our feet are thousands of tiny electric fires which after thousands of years finally make more light than heat.
I carry my own little history inside me too.