Do you prefer space, or the deep ocean? Or the void at end of the world where the ocean was before it turned to salt? Or all of the above?
Me, I prefer the all-out sprint to the edge where the toes abandon the sun-warmed planks, the infinity of just existing in air, a moment before the infinity of just existing in cold water.
There is boundless freedom only found constrained to a minute's unreversed decision. There is endless wisdom only gained when lost to the great unknown, unwritten verities.
There is uncanny comfort in this pastel wind over gray land, in the unconcerned moon, in the one thing you don't even think about until you need to find where you dropped your keys.
In reality, "all of the above" is the correct response, and you can with joy fling yourself into the abyss of any unfathomed mystery, any new creation to discover whether you will float, or sink, or swim.
Or we could just spend the day together at an art museum, leave your jacket and keys there on the benighted beach, hold hands, and jump through the wormhole at the center of the galaxy.