One day Sokha, a dear friend of mine, came to visit my house and asked me to write about something, the thing that I would never forget from the cradle to the grave. It was that weird thing that made me write this story down. He had two pieces ...
One day Sokha, a dear friend of mine, came to visit my house and asked me to write about something, the thing that I would never forget from the cradle to the grave. It was that weird thing that made me write this story down.
He had two pieces of blank paper. He gave one to me and asked me to write about another piece of blank paper.
“Why?” I asked.
“Don’t ask! Just write,” he told me with a cunning smile on his skinny face.
I looked at the blank paper and checked the paper twice before I started my writing. But the blank paper was spotless and there was absolutely nothing to write about. Without upsetting my friend, I began my writing, even though I knew I would finish my writing in a few sentences.
Here is my writing:
“This paper is clean and spotless. It has a rectangular shape and four right angles. This is an A4-size and it is white, I suppose, if my eyes not fool me.”
I finished my writing and handed it over to Sokha.
He looked at me. It was a long look. And then he finally opened his mouth, “I Know, you can write longer than that, my friend.”
I shook my head and replied, “this is the best I can do. There is nothing in it, really.”
He took the paper from me and told me to wait him there. Then he went to his house which is not so far from my house. About 10 minutes later, he came back with another piece of paper in this hand.
“What is it?” I asked curiously.
“This is what I have written about the blank paper which you have been writing about it a moment ago,” he said.
I took the paper from him straight away and I wondered how could he write it that long, longer than I could imagine. A double pages description of a blank paper was something extra ordinary. I was curious to read what he had written down.
“It is indeed a blank paper, clean and clear. It is white and it is thin. But when I close my eye, I see this blank paper as the source of our knowledge. Without it people will go brainless. It is what creates history and mystery. A blank paper can be used to write things down so other people can learn from it and vice versa. It can be used to prove about the fact of something and it can be used to lie, cheat and deceive others. A blank paper, without a single word written on it, is a true knowledge. But when you write something down, it becomes a fact. And it doesn’t matter if that fact is true or false. Only the author of that piece of writing will know which is which. ”
I stopped reading for moment and ask Sokha, “What is the different between a true knowledge and fact?”
He looked at me and said, “People can’t change the true knowledge but they can change the fact.”
I could feel it, although I was not fully understand what he tried to tell me. Then I went on reading.
“Your shit definitely comes from your ass, but you will never figure out where your ass comes from. So you ask: where does the blank paper come from? And a man replied: it is made from wood. And so you ask again: where does the wood come from? And a woman said: it came from the soil. And if you ask once again: where does the soil come from? Your Grandparents will come out and screamed at you: Bullshit they are all made from God. You will be surprise to learn that your grandparents know God made everything from reading the Bible which is a book made from pieces of blank paper. ”
I laughed and he grinded. I was speechless and so I continued reading.
“A blank paper is like a revolution. I used to see people made a boat out of woods in my own eyes and I believed in it. But it is like a magic to make a thin delicate piece of paper from a big rock solid tree. I also believed in it because I am lucky enough to live in this generation among these brilliant people, the people who is hard to define yet powerful and smart enough to know that there is a black hole existed in our universe. ”
I was not really like this paragraph at all. Maybe because I never use writting paper much.
Sokha sipped his water and urged me to read the last piece. I took my time and began reading.
“A blank paper is like our universe. A blank paper can be nothing and it can be everything. It can be nothing when no one writes anything on it. And it can be everything when you write anything on it. The universe is the same. Why? Because if the universe is something, then there will be a boundary. Plus the universe has no top or bottom or even edges. I am not a fan of mathematic but I do know a thing or two about math when I do my job. If the universe is NOT something, it is either nothing or everything. Sometimes I closed my eyes and I had a feeling that the universe is nothing because I couldn’t understand why there should be a universe at all. And yet this ‘nothing universe’ seems to have everything in it from matter to space to energy.”
I gave the paper back to him and amaze to what he had written. It was a piece of blank paper that creates such a beautiful story. “Well done,” I congratulated him.
“That’s why we are different,” he went on, “you are a scientist and I am a philosopher.”
“You are a smart ass,” I said. Then he took his writing paper and tossed into fire and a piece of blank paper turned into ash.
“Why do you burn it?” I asked, “it is a great article, you know?”
“The real true knowledge always remains untold,” he said. “Today I burn a piece of blank paper but tomorrow there will million of it ready for selling.”
“I am glad that the universe has no top, bottom or even boundary,” I told Sokha.
“Why?” he asked.
“If it does then people will try to find what lay beyond that boundary, ” I said. “And then there will be even more mystery to solve.”
“Oh really,” Sokha replied. “And have you solved that mystery of ‘2+2=5’ yet?”
“Sorry I am not a philosopher,” I looked at my watch. “At this time, your wife will be on the street looking for her crazy philosophy husband.”