It was a world in which all was evanescent, all perceptions soon passing out of sight, memories gaining a distance from the reality of their happening. Everything was a momentary vignette, perfect now, but having no stake in our future happiness, our future concerns.
And because of this temporality, a retrospective discourse took over, dominating the discussion of our plans, our hopes, returning us to the reality of it all. I had an eccentric but revealing vantage point, but my curiosity never brought me to any conclusion. Neither language nor silence could give an adequate reply to this questioning.
And so I spent that year deconstructing this uncertainty, working through those passing moments, pulling them apart until they no longer held weight, until they no longer took a role in how my life would progress.
I would never be an exception to our inextricable relationship with time, our futility in changing what was next. I could only be an alteration on the rule.