Seasons of time

I pick up a book to keep reading in the afternoon. I forgot where I left off in the morning, and so I accidentally read words over again. However, I don’t recognize the reading of the same at first. The experience feels new for a second, until this morning seeps back into relation with those words. And I find that I’ve changed since the morning. And I find that new memories take flight in places once visited, all life surrendered to this spirit of change, even book pages of moments before. No moment in time outside time.

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