All

It has been so long since not a single word had been written, perhaps with a certain sense of attrition, sometimes writing and the broader context of intellectual exercises is constituted into a risky venture into the darkest bottom of fear than it is an exercise in freedom. There's just so much that we wouldn't like to acknowledge that we know in full, and a practice as public as that of writing and debating isn't particularly helpful in enhancing our self-confidence about not knowing, and the matter turns slightly more complicated at the prospect of this knowledge not concerning facts of science as much as the interpretation of what one could not without a certain pressumption, call but an interpretation of basic truths of the world. One is always inclined to think that writing is so much more entertaining than actual learning and that the practice of meaning and expression is far more valuable than that of scientific learning. There exists undoubtedly an acute chasm between science and dream, between scholarship and flight.

The flight is the ALL and yet nothing, whereas scholarship is nothing and yet the ALL. We know the reluctance with which philosophy and science, infested with a certain theological caution, handle the ALL. The world in the old metaphysical systems was construed, brick by brick, from the pressumption of the ALL, however there's no such a thing as one brick or another when the ALL is the underlying pressumption.