Of Prostitutes and Black holes

Today I feel like a black hole. No, more like a prostitute. Because, this is probably the same. Prostitutes take the sorrows of “normal”, societyish probably wealthy men, and turn it into a nothingness so these men can relax and forget about them, but after it is done, the men forget about the prostitutes as well as their sorrows, hence the black hole, since everything just vanishes like never there.

The prostitute is forgotten, the sorrow is forgotten, and on it goes, with normal life and earning a heap of money and turning back to the women, who are worthy of their deep love and understanding and their sperm and their time and their life.

The prostitute does not even know if this ever happened and she never even feels like she was worth to ever have been count. She goes on, swallowing and eating some others huge information about the past, until it is completely gone inside her, never to be seen again. And on an on and on, since there is just dark space and her as heavy and massy as possible, until even time is forgotten from the whole dark space around her and inside her.

That is what makes prostitutes and black holes all the same.

The men can act as there weren’t ever any prostitutes in their lives, because they vanish like a black hole, because obviously, a black hole must vanish in the end, when everything around it is dark due to it eating everything in “thereness”. So, the black hole never existed, it can’t be told at least.  Or at last, who can ever tell.

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