The space between stars is best described as nothing.

The same nothing as the distance between the tree just outside your window and the blue sky beyond.

The same nothing as the the rainbow you chase as a child - sure of it’s colourful existence but never able to catch it.

The same nothing as the thought that goes into planning a meal. The unseen conception that only becomes created when it’s you who creates it.

The same nothing as the presence you feel of loved ones, after their death. Irrepairably gone from this realm, but somehow still there. In your bones, you can feel them.

Stand outside, at night, with the cold air on your skin, and look up into the sky. The space between the stars is nothing, except what you - standing there - ponder into seeing.