From 0495feb8116165ea488b0c97318529c6b0ef3806 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Madison Rye Progress Date: Sat, 26 Oct 2024 15:02:40 -0700 Subject: [PATCH] update from sparkleup --- writing/post-self/time-story.md | 1 - 1 file changed, 1 deletion(-) diff --git a/writing/post-self/time-story.md b/writing/post-self/time-story.md index 3e61a1ed..a471bec3 100644 --- a/writing/post-self/time-story.md +++ b/writing/post-self/time-story.md @@ -1,4 +1,3 @@ - Time is a story I tell myself. Sentences twine around seconds like tendrils of loveliness or despair or energy or lethargy. Minutes are paragraphs of weal or woe. My hours are scenes that I live out. Days: stories. Years: novels. But a life? What is a life, anymore? Three centuries and no sign of quitting, and a lifetime seems to have lost meaning. Perhaps someday my life will end, and I will have left behind a finite oeuvre. Perhaps I will simply decide that I have had enough and draw a line across the end of the page and, however many bookshelves of story are left behind shall be all that ever was.