I took a wistful reverie To heal from the cataclysm Our confluence had brought. Yet in my trance The muses stabbed me With shards of moments. And I bled tears, When my torment was complete, The tears dried. And the shards froze, Into perfect crystal souvenirs In my heart. Poem previously published at: https://allpoetry.com/poem/15641776-The-Souvenirs-You-Left-by-AbhijitChatterjee
Is reality a game of quantum mirrors? A new theory suggests it might be Jurik Peter / Shutterstock Peter Evans , The University of Queensland Imagine you sit down and pick up your favourite book. You look at the image on the front cover, run your fingers across the smooth book sleeve, and smell that familiar book smell as you flick through the pages. To you, the book is made up of a range of sensory appearances. But you also expect the book has its own independent existence behind those appearances. So when you put the book down on the coffee table and walk into the kitchen, or leave your house to go to work, you expect the book still looks, feels, and smells just as it did when you were holding it. In Helgoland, physicist Carlo Rovelli lays out a new way to think about quantum mechanics - and reality itself. Expecting objects to have their own independe...