I was there. I know you don’t believe me, but I saw thousands and thousands of collapsing stars. I traveled fast—faster than light along with tachyons—in fact I was a tachyon. I felt the level of oxygen and I sped through the ozone layer and then up higher onto an unknown galaxy far away from our solar system where the fabric of time bent gently against my body. I took a nap on a large molecular cloud, and was awakened by a wave of gamma rays—and you don’t believe me? I washed my hands into the dark matter of the universe, and watched in awe the gravitational redshift moving upwards, caused by a giant white dwarf below me. I did not see those knobs, though the exquisite fine tuning of the universe would suggest so. I did not see the watch maker. I paused and contemplated the universe’s infinity. All around me, I saw billions of stars exploding and releasing the elements that made your big eyes: why do you think they are bright and beautiful? Each one is made of stardust. Each one is made of different elements from the explosion of stars that lived far away from one another. You are the universe because the universe is in you. And I was there, and I saw thousands and thousands of collapsing stars.