He stands on the very edge in a state of permanent instability, blasted by longitudes, by the demarcation line between the visible and the invisible, between light and ultimate darkness. This is a zone of total blankness. Inside the black hole all light is trapped, in there all energy churns; everything is forced upon itself to the point where absolute density merges with absolute void, nothing en everything meet and the borders between creation and destruction are wiped out. The energy sears his blind eyes. On the utmost brink time moves infinitely slowly, time is in the process of consuming itself. He knows that time is a postulate that can neither be maintained nor verified. He stands on the edge of a hollow, a pit in the universe, a hole that devours everything, as long as there remains anything to devour. He stands in the vortrex, in a cloud of gas and dust surging further in and away. On the other side, beyond everything, beyond the antihorizon, is a white hole, maybe. That would be beyond the intelligence of a god. He is consumed by a sub-atomic fear, as immense as the cosmos, and he understands that he understands nothing. He is billions of years old and an ever newborn babe, unformed, in the incubator of the universe.