When you talk about infinity with a filmmaker (because you asked him how old film reels work), you learn that infinity is not just an expansive endless going outside or away (like space is, from us). There is the infinite in the finite as well. For example, if you have a room, you can divide it into two, three, ten, twenty parts, and so forth. It’s infinitely divisible into smaller parts, the way a film can be divided infinitely based on how quickly and/or how spaced apart your slides are.
It never occurred to me that infinity isn’t just expansive towards the outside, but that there is also infinity towards the inside.
This makes me think of the implications about our bodies, our cells. What’s the smallest part of a cell? What stuff is that stuff made of, and the stuff that’s made of? What’s the smallest part if you keep dividing it?
Photo from the National Geographic Italy