ah, to be reminded that the present is the only time to live. that the decisions we make are both meaningful and not, that the paths we take are both marked and mysterious. time may or may not explain things, and life genuinely may or may not be worth all the painfully beautiful situations we timidly delight in.
up out of the lampshade, startled by the overhead light, flew a large nocturnal butterfly that began circling the room. the strains of the piano and violin rose up weakly from below.
[unbearable lightness of being.]
maybe we're all just startled into existence, blinking defensively at the dust dancing in the light we have been given.
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