Inexperience by Zoe Joshi

The vastness of the world will remain unbearable until I have it in the palm of my hand. It is an impossible ambition to feel what every creature may feel in the spin of this planet, to write every word a poet may think of writing before they pick up their pen, to understand the pain of every newborn taking its first breath. Although I could come close to knowing; I could never feel it all. I may miss what I cannot name, and demean what I may already have, but I can never close the distance between 'almost'' and 'there'. I may have the knowledge of a thousand books, but never shall have the vision of a thousand films. Perhaps I could try, but then too, I would never have the hands of the artists that mold colour into spectacle. If I wasn't destined to be adequately singular, with no more knowledge than an ant predicting its survival, the restlessness wouldn't gnaw at me till I die trying. If I had the chance to feel the heat of the early Earth, I would sit upon its blazing soil. If I saw the first moonbeam, I would write sonnets about its possessor. Although the idea seems satisfying, when humans have nothing more to dwell on, they are seldom at ease.