I have this urge to know for real. Not to understand, not to speculate. To know. To know where the city of Atlantis was, if it ever existed. To know exactly what humanity lost when the Library of Alexandria burned, not in value, not in hypothesis, but which books those were and where they came from. To know what was happening here, in this piece of land called Brazil, ten thousand years ago. To know if there’s someone on the other side of the universe with the same questions. To know if there’s a god. Not as a matter of faith. As a matter of fact.
I know there’s probably no way. But I really wanted to know. Still do.