There are horizontal geographical borders and the incorporeal transparent air which from the heaven above cuts across sea’s circle. The space thus expands between that height and all that lies underneath: the cotton cloud adrift in the sky, becoming the inlay of ice that sharpens peaks akin to blades, drops into vast amphitheatres and immediately as liquid flows down the rocks, disrupting the silence of forests while quarrying stones at the bottom of valleys. Azure snakes, rivers on printed maps disentangle mutely. But how does water refract, what din polishes pebbles on shores and riverbeds? What is the gyration that as waves breathe dislodges sea’s lathe and forges a smooth stone from a rock? Contiguous borders that transform the continuous morphology of things into an osmosis of one with the other. What then is the prime-boundary the glance thrusts from the body where the heart pulses to the very finger tips? Where is thought’s final boundary that traverses that body and having crossed it projects before itself the world space that it contemplates within?