Take space. Take the whole of it. Imagine it as a solid form — undifferentiated, uniform.
Now, carve out of space: things. Stars, planets, continents, cities, buildings, bowls of soup.
What, of space, remains? The whole, but hole-y. Delicate lace-like between-bits stretch between big solid sections with innumerable infinitesimal elipses.
Things move. As any star/planet/bowl-of-soup shifts position, the form changes. It sucks shut behind the thing, healing. No more hole where the thing was; new hole where it is. The form jiggles with the movement. The jiggles travel out from the thing’s position making nearby things jiggle sympathetically. The jiggles weaken with distance, far away things work hard to feel them.
Put patterns in the jiggles and another thing, distant within the form, reads them and sends some jiggles back. The form transmits information and action.
In a tiny corner of the form, one thing’s wild white hair bobs over a blank page. On the page’s top is scrawled: “Zur Elektrodynamik bewegter Körper”. The form jiggles in a mode never before seen. As they spread do the jiggles become a shiver? Are these particular jiggles propagated somewhat lackadaisically? Lazily, even? With distaste?
Does the form feel fear?