I remember the day I learned matter was mostly empty space. 9th grade, Mr. Camosy's "ISP" (a fancy acronym for general survey of science) class, as he told us our chairs were just magnetic fields repelling our asses, I looked at the wall of the classroom and imagined running headfirst through it. Pushing aside the electrons and nuclei by sheer force of will like a curtain. White-painted cement. And the windows narrow as arrow slits.