The above epitaph is one of my all-time favourites. In it, the philosopher of science, Michel Serres (1930–2019), illustrates the beauty and richness of recognising a multiplicity of individual truths while absorbing wider constellations of knowledge. A singular truth, or worldview, sparkles in the darkness, at home in its own coordinates of spacetime. Yet, it is not alone but part of local assemblies of knowledge, which, when spun together, shine brighter still without the stars losing their own individual luminosity. Then, zoom out further, and a whole sky of interconnected knowledge unfolds before our eyes. Still only a minuscule section of the universe, each star has a unique time signature, bearing witness to a different age, spatial location, and biochemical makeup. Its own truth is part of something much grander. Indeed, some stars beaming their information rays across the vast cosmos may well have died before their knowledge hits our Earth-bound eyes. Then dawn arrives, and our own sun rises above the horizon and we become blinded to all other perspectives on and from the Universe. The stars are drowned out by the one singular truth that is the sun, brashly branding its imprint upon our skin. To fully appreciate incalculable knowledge in all its glorious forms, we must maintain a stance of porosity: not blinded by the proximity and familiarity of our immediate star, our own indisputable truth, but cultivating a sensitivity to an otherness that might not be instantly obvious or comprehensible.