let’s just say your world was no bigger than this hibiscus bush.
if you have a short life span (compared to that of a tortoise, let’s say), and if you are quite small with the attention span of a ____ (which is not really fair, because you may be driven by need, not conscience or intellect–so many are these days), then the world as you know it might be infinite(ly), composed as it is of bark, leaf, flower.
however, if your size only allows you occasional visits to the hibiscus bush (should i have said ‘shrub’?), to alight upon its waving stalks and intricate latticework of branches and leaves (all william morris-designed), if alighting is your thing, of course, it’s possible that you’ve scurried to the safety of its lower branches and denser undercarriage, why then, it would only be a part of your considerably larger world. my question remains though, what if your world were this small, but you knew there was more just beyond the stamen of the topmost bloom?
as long as we’re speculating, and your world view encompassed at least the garden that the hibiscus bush (or shrub, you decide), but you resolutely denied the existence of such experiences of a pebbled path, a rose bush (which is never a shrub), a geranium, the dirt the bush grows in, the vine of honeysuckle beckoning like the long extended bony finger of miss havisham (just for kelly, should he read this), what would that make you? angry at yourself for your timidity, for your denial of the existence of greater experiences, lashing out at those who might want to share with you the beauty of one moment of life different from your own (and hard to live with.)