True Distance

 The science end of things tends to point out that we are only little planet orbiting one unexceptional star at the far edge of an ordinary galaxy in a universe of unimaginable size containing billions of galaxies expanding, entropically, no where, ending in heat death. We are no more than a speck of sand on an infinite beach. 

The arts side of things tends to say that life in such vastness is infinitely precious. If rareness is an indicator of value, than our rareness remains unimaginably precious no matter how much life turns out to exist in this vastness. One speck of gold in an infinite expanse of sand. 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning said you need to get some distance from an object to see it clearly. The statue the size of a mountain looks like a mountain when you're at the foot. Virginia Woolf said you have to be right there, immersed in it to see what it is, to experience it as it is. Distance blurs, overlooks, forgets. 

Is anybody right? Or is there no right interpretation of anything in time or space? 

There is no absolute interpretation. No one is right. Wrong is achievable. Right is not.