A football. Spherical in its nature and appearance. Hexagonal to its smaller inhabitants that roam its seemingly flat tectonics. And to the inner beings; those who float the spherical gap between its leather walls?
Insperical? Unspherical? Perhaps an imploded sphere with all its walls turned out. A shape that encompasses everything that is all around you. An omni shape. But in the perfect darkness, it is not even that. A boundary to all movement but the space it occupies can be anywhere, though the air inside is always the same. The small pieces of dust and flaked leather that in-orbit the unsphere travel through the world that they can not see, sudden indentation a prophecy to travelling. A half a million eyes watch the ball leave a shoe and travel into white string and the contents know nothing except the noise that can travel through leather of their actions.