"And I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep."
Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five
The present. It's supposed to be all we have, right? But how much of it is "really" ours? Time slips away even as we try to grab it. You're here, now, reading this, but your mind might already be halfway into tomorrow's to-do list or stuck in something you said last week.
How wide is the present? Wide enough to hold a fleeting moment, yet so narrow it feels like it vanishes the second you notice it. How deep? As deep as your awareness allows, but good luck holding onto that depth when your phone pings. And how much is ours to keep? Honestly, probably none of it. The present isn't something you can store in a box or pin to a wall. It's just this. It's this right now. And now it's gone. Funny, isn't it? We chase something that doesn't stay still. 1 reply
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