March 6, 2004
It still moves. Those were the words he muttered to himself as they dragged him out of the hall, it still moves and the guards gouged his sides with the sharp edges of their arm greaves, the nails in their boots ringing on the hard marble tile. It still moves. Was he removed from that imposing courtroom, or was it removed from him – relativity was not even the flicker of the shadow of an idea, but still it moved, moved him, moved in him. They all moved, together in relation to the cosmos, in relation to history and to God.