An interjection is thrown in, just as a coin - it settles or is decided long ago, whether in a vending machine, a well or a mailbox. What happens to all the heckling, the special coin or bissi rusty, can not swim or not wishing well compatible unstamped, with no indication des Absenders oder gar mit unleserlicher Anschrift versehen?
Was, wenn ein Zwischenruf, einmal eingeworfen, stecken bleibt?
Dann: Wenn ein Zwischen ruft, drehen sich die Menschen nicht einmal um, und wenn, nach anderen Menschen, denn sie meinen zu wissen, dass es ein Zwischen nicht gibt.
Frage doch einmal auf der Straße eine beliebige Zahl Menschen, was ein Zwischen ist - sie werden seltsame Antworten bereit halten, seltzahme Antworten, die ihnen geheuer sind, vertraut, die schon lange Zeit mit ihnen im Käfig lebten oder willig an der Leine führen ließen, die herkommen auf Pfiff.
Viele werden "weiß nicht" antworten, sich abwenden, weitergehen, sich an die End type or if they are Dutch, on the cheek. Or ask them what exactly is it an intermediate, just as they knew and wanted's their turn to check whether you know compared to what they know. Some will also say that the intermediate does not exist, believe - firmly - to have the claim in law. "Rock solid" - the play between fact hiding.
between them do not like people. Because they have never seen one. Because one thing was never haunted, living in cages or running up to whistle came, the tongue was hanging from the neck of males.
The biology of the interim is unknown, so I want from the ausbreiten, was ich Zwischenrufen entnahm die mir zu Ohren kamen und dazwischen hängen blieben:
Ich habe mir gedacht, überlegt und gefaltet, dass ein Zwischenruf eigentlich unsichtbar sein muss oder zumindest unscheinbar, denn schließlich ist das Zwischen selbst unsichtbar.
Das Zwischen nistet jenseits des Erkennens. Dort legt es Eier, brütet sie aus und versorgt seine Brut mit Dingen, die es sich aus dem Diesseits des Erkennens fängt. Hierzu schlüpft es, einem Zaunkönig gleich, der eine dem Menschen scheinbar Weißdornhecke passiert wie nix, durch die Grenze des Erkennens.
Diese auch "Heisenbergsche Unschärferelation" genannte Grenze ist die Grenze zum Kleinen, ist ein Bereich, in which things seem to dissolve, and behind which there should be no things, but more waves, energy and a lot of what we think only that we neither understand nor can touch, although everything, even the greatest, it combined them and endures.
The intermediate thus has its nest behind the border. If it schlingelt by this Heisenberg hawthorn hedge, * and on our page counts, so actually in us, in the brain Kastl, Kappes, or turnip, as we call the space, which limits our imagination (such thing as a safe, or even a bank, there you can deposit, withdraw and go bankrupt without mans term notes) - So, if the matter between us, it is between things.
And that is the most significant, important, and best of all, what makes the intermediate, as this makes the interim, that things are as they are, that the world is the way you and I can see it and touch it.
The intermediate power, that everything is matter, does not adhere to a huge lump with nothing around it. This is intermediate between the quarks is between the electrons and between electrons and the atoms between molecules. That's between that aircraft carrier is as large as an aircraft carrier and not the size of a pinhead (and just as difficult). The
So between making space, and in the main room, one in the room can get our driver never - even though he is in the midst of them in there, just like you and me and in all things: the space!
The intermediate makes it fills the gap! It is, it is said, in between, always, always, always. The
Between here! In between is so because we need as much thought to capture it and because the interim, it can at the same time with the things to the limits of the universe inflates, a thought-heavy word. In between, as well.
In between is much larger, more important and more protracted than that of mindless (not preoccupied!) People hastily thrown word. Just because the intermediate and the conditions therein. limits
limits to you think that surround them. What about the other limit, you ask me? Yes! As there is a limit to the small, which prevents our knowing it, to understand everything, so there is a limit to the greatness which is our recognition as impenetrable because it is lost like a drop of blood in the Pacific. Such a drop of blood is seen initially, then it dissolves and is no longer visible. Sharks can still taste it out, they say, but also has an end. The large but not, at least none that we can do more than imagine, and imagination is not knowledge, is an idea, some say faith. Since leaving us at some point even the power to the imagination, created with the things and we can be for a short time, we can not know and recognize.
The intermediate has this other side to its nest.
you think that this is not possible? You say that that has intermediate its nest on the other side, on the other side of the frontier of knowledge?
Have you ever seen a nest? Imagine a nest in front, surrounded by the border of knowing - all around the border, a border, from which you can not make accurate, obs is now the border with the kids or the border to the Great, is there limit, and in the middle, also in der Mitte: Das Nest des Zwischen. Das Nest des Zwischens ist also ebenso jenseits der Grenze des Erkennens, wie es zugleich inmitten des durch diese Grenzen bestimmten Raum, eines Zwischenraums(!) ist.
Darin ein Ei.
Darin alles, was wir Welt nennen oder Weltraum oder Grenze oder Zwischen oder Zwischenraum.
Auch du und ich.
Wir sind Zwischen!
Wir leben in Zwischenräumen!
Wir sind sowohl diesseits wie auch jenseits der Grenzen unseres Erkennens!
Okay. Jetzt dürfte das mit den Zwischenrufen auch klar sein, hm?
Und das alles nur, weil ich kraft meines Vorstellungsvermögens das Zwischen als kleinen Vogel mit Nest entstehen lassen und es kraft deines Imagination for a while and be able to stay.
Well, not quite. It is there in any case, the intermediate, which is known to have exhausted even without his imagination.
And God is now facing a vending machine, a well or a mailbox, wondering which button to press it, if he should want to be delighted, or even whether he provided his letter with the correct address and sufficient postage has, if anything.
Ludwig Janssen, 2 January 2010
white thorn * Not? Pricks ignorance?
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