Space, is big.

And it holds things like the Ringworld.

A bit of WH40K fiction

Up above an arctic storm was lashing the towers of Dwumfords Hive. Sleet and freezing rain was attacking the soaring edifices and bridges of the upper city; coating the homes of the rich and powerful in ice that would only melt when the distant summer came. Down where I was guiding my bicycle through yet another souk, the storm manifested as an endless series of drips and rivulets of dirty water sluicing down from above. I had been told that once the storm passed, I should make my way to an upper level to view the dawn lighting up the ice-encrusted spires. Beautiful and inspiring, I was told.
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OK, who wants to see Part 2?