When you were five, what did you want to be when you grew up?
I’ve always been kind of wannabe scientist and doing an okay job at qualifying. I eventually opted for other creative ways of wrestling down the human condition. Here is a poem trying to explain a new theory of gravity by Erik Verlinde (https://arxiv.org/abs/1001.0785):
In a room scattered with marbles wide,
A silent rule makes them slide and glide,
A cosmos dance, mystery’s embrace,
A silent ballet in space.
“Gravity,” they whisper, not just a chain,
But a tale of movement, not plain.
Not a distant force that ties,
But a story of lows and highs.
When a ball leaps, then meets the floor,
It’s not just falling, but so much more.
A scene changes, a lore shifts,
A new tale, as reality drifts.
Erik Verlinde, with a bold claim,
Not old scripts, but a new game.
Gravity, rethought, anew,
From entropy, it grew.
Some star-gaze, igniting queries,
Is entropy the dance of theories?
A vast universe, secrets to unfold,
Gravity’s tale, slowly told.
Yet, not all buy this cosmic dance,
In thought halls, doubts advance.
The debate stays, as we quest,
Seeking cosmos truths, without rest.
Let’s marvel at our universal spree,
Where ‘information’ rules, you and me.
In this endless quest, hand in hand,
We seek, we wonder, across the land.
Through a child’s eyes, the universe, wide,
No blunders, just awe, side by side.
Gravity, more than a force,
A cosmos story, from source.
A Fool's Handbook 