The City I Live In - Some Time
It's the only tool that will stop time itself.
Our existence is fixed to the time in which we live. Like photography, crystallising moments, and seemingly negating the time after or before, anchoring our existence to an inescapable timeline, so too our lives are lived as a burst of the shutter, transitioning within the now, progressing our thoughts too along this timeline, regardless of their creativity or pathology. They too are fixed to this time and fleets ever more than our empirical existence.
Like the sepia toned photo of a tuxedoed Jack Nicholson at the end of The Shining, our fate is inextricably tied to the now, our decisions a veil of illusion shaping our time to come, to unfold our free will, our agency, woven into the fabric of this time and no other time we can know or shape.
Play along with the absurdist theatre we must and accept that we are tethered to the now, and yet, there is much to reap. Seeing the world transition through our time is a constant gift freely thrown at those healthy enough for a life lived with longevity and hubris. We are stuck in today's time, yes, but that would be true one hundred years from now or past. You can only appreciate empirically what is in front of you.