I cannot help but think that space is ultimately a subjective matter. For me anyway.
I enjoy squinting at my nose, imagining what I look like to others while fixated and lost in the grips of this most bizarre past time. I know my nose exists, not because I see it placed on my face while looking through the mirror but because it is in the foreground of my sight when I choose for it to be. What I experience as real, is only real once I experience it you see.
Walking around the world, I have had the chance to decipher and articulate realness. The same way that your first cavalry knight explores the map in Age of Empires, searching, pining to set foot to a relic.
Spaces that I have experienced, which I have left footprints on if only for a day, I grasp. Capturing and regurgitating everything spatially intriguing which I have the intellect and insight to process. In the similar way that the sensor would process such by extracting his/her Pentax from its practical, yet durable leather pouch. Before obsessively photo bombing the hell out of the area, capturing their essence of the space in picture form, to later regurgitate on the factors of the landscape, cultural traditions or customs he/she understands or desires to understand, for the sake of processing the space or their intrigue in the space. These experiences however capture a very specific, snapshot in time, one which could be described as a blink. The stimulation and fullness of the space between the blinks that we were fortunate enough to have chosen for ourselves.
I used to claim that space was practical in context. That half way across the world there are spaces, deserts, plateaus, even spaces along snow laden lateral moraines scarred by centuries of glaciation. Where wind so strong, carries sand which builds up all those sensitive spots you’d prefer for sand not to build up in. Making one cover linen over their face, making one wear three layers of clothing in heat that were produced as if in the oven. Where rock and ice under such immense pressure turn schist and igneous rock into something as brittle as a Kit Kat in the mouth of a chocoholic. Spaces such as the Black Hole or those found in stories such as “Journey to the Center of the Earth’. Regardless, without me having previously trod in deserts or on glaciers, none of this would be real to me. Would I understand a glacier if I had never seen one past the outline of my nose, no! Would I understand the variability of glaciers if I did not study geology and have the fortunate opportunities to see countless examples, no! If you are an individual who does not understand a glacier, or cannot incorporate a glacier or its function into your interpretation of reality, is it real to you?
Reality to me is defined by my interpretation of the word. The same way reality is defined by my own interpretation of space. Have I traveled to a number of countries? Yes I have. Are they real? Well the real nature of those spaces to me have been captured and regurgitated, yes. I live with them, they shape my reality and life from the very moment my life was enriched by them. They become real through my and other’s incorporation of that space into their lives, into their understanding of what reality is to them.
All we have is the present to learn from. The present passes within the time it takes one to blink, yawn, cough or in today’s world often complain. As the present precedes the future. So too does our interpretation of the present precede the interpretation of the future. Over time this evolve and develop nature is exhibited in everything that we as humans find stimulation in, including space. Why not ponder about what we deem as reality? Why don’t we ponder reality as having that same nature, also shedding, depleting or becoming outdated over time. Why not finally confess to ourselves that what is truly real is only what we truly know!