I breathe.

Julius Ceaser expelled a molecule of the breath I just took in the very last seconds of his life in 44 BC. Or so says the science. A single breath can contain around 25 sextillion air molecules. That's a big number. Twenty-five, followed by 21 zeros. And these molecules are recycled and rebreathed over and over again, endlessly, forever.

Every time we fill our lungs, we breathe in history. Minuscule bits of the air I just inhaled were likely breathed out by Ned Kelly and Marco Polo and Elvis Presley, and both Karl and Groucho Marx, and Jesus Christ and the Buddha and a Neanderthal mother that I share 2 per cent DNA with, and a million others! Not to mention dinosaurs and whales and emus and tiny bilbies and majestic midnight tigers.

We are intimately connected through the very air we breathe, each to the other. To those long since turned to dust. To all living things. Even plants. That unceasing, ancient, fundamental, life-giving exchange of air.

The breath of the world. Just think of that. How profoundly wonderful!