What if the Big Bang wasn’t an answer, but a question? Not a declaration of “Here is everything,” but a cosmic whisper: “What could everything become?” We tend to treat the universe like a solved puzzle—atoms, laws, particles, probabilities. But what if it’s more like a riddle that keeps rewriting itself? A question so vast it needed stars, fungi, queer love, and black holes just to begin articulating its syntax? 🧠 Consciousness as a Question Mark Maybe consciousness isn’t t
