Flipbook

It is the 1st of July and I have realized something about time. 6 months passed by, not quickly but painfully slow, almost torturous, like some revenge played on me by existence. But I remember the slow passage of this time not simply because I failed to make it glorious, unforgettable or even worthwhile, but also because every day looked exactly the same, over and over. My life has gone by like turning the pages of a flipbook; there is hardly any difference between one day and the next, but I have to believe (I have to) that over time, I can look back and see movement, that I can look backwards at my life instead of discovering myself standing very still at the same place, staring out across the water.

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