End of day
A few hours until midnight. 2013 will soon be no more. Make the most of your time, they said. Well, where were you when you last said that to yourself? Did you clean up your room? Did you go somewhere? Did you learn something? It was easy to answer these questions, it is way harder to admit them. Many things change, of course, yet you learn annually that what matters was whether the void inside you is shifting. Yet you never remember. To repeat yourself is either a doom or a divine intervention or a little bit of both. One day I was there, bathing under the vertical ray of the morning sun, but my thoughts are elsewhere, they always are. It wasn’t until the day I need to pull my conscience back down to earth that I knew that nature is ephemeral, but you are eternal. Everything doomed to perish but you. I am like an open book, but you are no less an open book than an empty one. A blank slate. Every year you tried to write , scribble, erase, make grids, until pages are no more blank but still don’t imply meanings. You walk past the years, and you learn to improve and appreciate, but in the end you just learn to learn.