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Ever-changing moment

It always confuses me when I try to imagine different times in comparison to each other.

When I think of the present moment, my body is the first thing that makes sense to me.

I observe and feel its forms, shapes and textures. Only then does existence have any significance or real meaning.

To me, the present is white, pure and fleeting. It latches on to the past before it takes on a different color; a past, that is as archaic and permanent as a Luristan Bronze stag from ancient Iran.

Yet the future comes in a variety of colors and forms.

My fate could be sealed in the lines of the palm of my hand or it could either be the result of my own choice and free will. It could be made of the same stuff the past is made of, or could just be a repetition of it. Whichever it is the future remains mysterious and unknown.