Worldbuilding

The thing about real worlds, worlds with depth and soul, is that they are never just one thing.

Worlds are fragmented things, giant shimmering masses of concept and dream and creation. They exist in the physical, in the now, a single precise moment of action.

A world is the place and all the things and people in it, but it is also everything that each of those people believe it to be.

Worlds, you see, are really just stories.

Everything is true somewhere.

Or was true. Or will be.

,........,

Let us then consider this--a world and all its facets: everything it ever was, is and could ever be.

All at once. Not spread out.

But in a single where and when.

Twisted upon itself, torturously; a great clamour of action and being.

Imagine this world, its dimensions and possibilities layered in a way that defies human comprehension, and those who would navigate within it.

What is a world without an end or beginning, only a vast and crowded present?