The knowledge of a force which every object experience from every other object, just for the simple reason that the object is there, lingers as a source of deep distress. The force is there: inexorable, given, foreordained. It revealed something, a piece of information, which I would, had there been a choice, not have opted to know. It goes counter to my prerogative to dream, a dream I would have loved to cherish, that at some point of time, I might be able to fly. The fact that I have no information of a known incident of a human being flying,...