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November 2, 2020
What time can we have when the time is what the time is in the time we have to be inside the time? It is nothing but what we make of it; what we make of it is illusion. We slide inside a passage that shrinks mercilessly to nothing as the present time, which is no time but a unsubstantial dot called the point at which we go or stay. There is the river, though. It flows through this nothingness jetting into the past, rushing toward a future that we create or not. If not, we are only the past.