The moment

One moment submerged in the moment, the next, empty. But the moments themselves drift into one. Does it need me, the moment, to come to itself? Is that why it calls these words forth? Maybe it’s outlived itself, just as I’ve outlived myself. Does it want to escape or become itself in these words? Maybe it can do neither, just as I can do neither.

— Frenet, Journal

Advertisements

Comments are closed.