Shadows Out of Time

Michel Lotito (1950-2007) was born with devour-ability.

Known as Monsieur “Mouth” Mangetout, he ate bicycles, shopping carts and televisions.

In the ‘70s he ate a Cessna 150 airplane.

His Wikipedia page states he also consumed God.

In 2012, a Canadian named Sylvio Langevin sued for sole ownership of the solar system, including all planets, several moons and the entirety of the space between them. (Langevin, 2012 QCCS 613 (CanLII))

He declared a desire to collect planets the way others collect hockey cards.

Langevin understood that there was no earthly respondent to his claim, writing in his lawsuit, “If there was a respondent, it would be God.”

God, however, no longer existed.

He had already been consumed by Michel Lotito.

These men are real.

These things happened.

The world is an extraordinary place.

Sometimes limits cease, physical rules become temporarily disrupted—

Inverted and

infinite

like Michel Lotito’s stomach or Sylvio Langevin’s ambition.

Near where I live, there’s a town in which several years ago, at 9:34 a.m. on an otherwise unremarkable Tuesday, the shadows froze.

Where the shadows were, they are.

There is no light to cast them—or, rather, there are the same lights as always, casting shadows as always—but in addition to these normal shadows are the abnormal, permanent ones.

The townsfolk have grown accustomed to them.

To me, they are uncanny, existing at all times of day and night on all surfaces like two-dimensional anti-slices of three-dimensional reality, i.e. by definition: a subversion of that reality!

No one passes through these shadows.

They are avoided, as metaphysical puddles after a brainstorm.

It is unknown what would happen if one did pass through them. Perhaps nothing; perhaps everything at once.

Perhaps one would disappear.

One hears stories about things gone missing: baseballs, raccoons, vocabulary…

No one in town knows the words “beginning”, “original” or “divinity”.

They don’t remember 2001.

My own investigation into the events of 9:34 a.m. revealed what can be interpreted as either an anomaly or a malfunction, a cause or a correlation: at exactly that time on that day, the town’s sole weather station recorded a sudden, momentary drop in temperature to: absolute zero.

Did light freeze?

Did time?

The questions are even more bewitching in the present tense:

Is light frozen?

Is time frozen?

Perhaps light/time was but is not.

Perhaps both are now / now in the process of not[ting] until they both achieve (or: (1 ÷ achieve)) states of: are not / were not / will not be.

Fascinating!

I am also studying the properties of what I call the superumbra.

As you know, a shadow may have an umbra, an area from which all light is blocked; and a penumbra, an area from which some light is blocked.

What happens to an (“unnatural”) shadow’s umbra when another (“natural”) shadow’s umbra overlaps with it—

Can there be an area of less than no light?

I hypothesise yes.

It is into these < lightless depths that soon I shall for inquiry

descend.