conversation about the edge and skepticism

The door at the edge.
A myth you say. A Chinese looking man rubbing the hairs on his chin, he
had a bowl of soup that seemed to had a green steam to it and smelled of
ancient onions.

Yes the door at the edge. I helped design it.

They say that it coincides with the rising of the sun, to
give the illusion that its opening into another world.

Hmpphh. Is that what they say. The Chinese man is not pleased by the news. He
looks around in consternation, and takes a bit out of his eggroll. Rubs his
hands to gether and looks in front of him, chewing cautiously, pensively, maybe
even calculatingly.

What if I told you… it was not an illusion.

Then I would say thatyou are a gullible man. A man who
believes any farfetched fantasy.

The Chinese man’s eyes flashed, and his lips itched to
retort, “Farfetched, yes, if by that you mean, you must fetch it and it is far. But fantasy. My good friend…. You think you know so much, that is
the only fantasy. And you live in it. please excuse my saying. "now if you excuse me..."wait!"

Simply that there is a door instead of the sun and if you
race towards the horizon, you can reach the door in time.

And at that point you are brought into the place that is not
earth.

The other place What do you call it.

Call it whatever you want. It’s relatively tropical and
colorful, so I call it Brazil,
but you could call it whatever you want.