Recently i thought to myself that I keep observing my life as a point in time. That is, I see myself at a particular point in the fated story of my life. But i realized, i don't have anything to judge what the rest of my life will be like. I haven't travelled to the future. All my feelings of fate are just results of my imagination coupled with my
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time is one of those difficult ones, it's something we constantly measure, but it's something that is immeasurable, there is no definite or finite start/end. it's obsessive how we measure it, i guess because (oh here we go wank wank) it's the existential dilemma of when our "time" is going to end.
for example, it's like measuring age. we measure it by years but is that an accurate measure? when we measure time we are measuring a measurement? gah, it's hard to articulate.
in closing, this is why i like circles. it's the closest to infinity i can grasp.
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the great motif quest continues...
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unrelated (or perhaps related quite well)....another thing to ponder; the absence of the body. that has always intrigued me.
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Make it into a fucking cartoon or finish your posts with "by J.R.R. Tolkein"
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