The Void

This is blog post is a creative experiment. I figure if artists can break a urinal off a wall and call it art, then I can call this blog post the void. And by that I mean I will write nothing after this sentence (except after the artwork ends):

Wow. How breathtakingly fulfilling. I've discovered the meaning of life. I hope you feel enlightened. I'll tell you one thing. Picasso, Monet, and Rembrandt never came close to doing what I just did. Well, actually, Rembrandt kinda did with his sketches...

You could call that void a representation of the nothingness left in the wake of liberationist ideology (which ends up in a spiral of relativism). Freedom for the sake of freedom is nothing. There needs to be purpose, meaning, value, substance. Or, we could call the void the endlessness of space within finite confines (which is true in a sense). If you kept dividing the space by two you would never run out of space. Or, let's say the void is your brain on drugs. 

I'm so creative and artistic and good for kids.