Vacuum, momentary or otherwise, symbolically manifests itself in a curved line with a quite redundant dot below. We call it a question, mostly. Perceived through a thin veil of liquid in the eyes, it seems like a snake, ready to strike. Once it's there, you cannot help but acknowledge its existence, its venom. And you begin speculating. Weaving a web of possible articulations which will make it disappear - the vile interrogation mark. You seek answers, you seek people to answer, you seek sticks and skills in knowledge reserves to pacify the snake. Sometimes, you simply seek shelters to run away and escape it, even if for a while. But it returns. Sooner or later. You repeat strategies. Sometimes you win over its existence. Until it is reincarnated.

A question. A momentary retardation of faculties of perception. A discomfort in normal functionality. A dis-ease of the mind. As much a construct of the first person latent jackass within, as the possible answers from within or elsewhere.   


Essentially, there are no questions.
Consequently, there are no answers.