space

when i was a kid, i had a giant three-ring binder that contained the universe.

over and over i devoured chapters about our solar system, our galaxy, black holes, spacecraft, and aliens. the chapters about black holes and aliens were my favorites.

this was in the 90s, before black holes’ existence was proven. before humans detected gravitational waves. i used to stare for hours at the circle of nothingness (everythingness?) on the page. it was sort of like staring into a pupil. instead of making eye contact with my peers, i did so with the black blotch. i used to daydream about what it would be like to fall in.

and then, of course, there were the aliens. the pages of the binder showed ancient artworks—cave paintings, stone tablets—that depicted strange figures in perfectly round helmets, sometimes in front of enormous switchboards with countless buttons and wires. with my fingertip, i traced the circles of their helmets. they intrigued me just the same as the circles of the black holes.

years later, i would learn how space itself is curved.

(circles in circles in circles)

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© 2025 nessa jasper