"Unstable as the dust"

On the airplane reading that time does not exist and understanding that I knew this in the womb. That at some point we all had to pretend that things moved forward in order to square our biology with the world, in order to not implode under the sheer weight of a simultaneous experience. And it hardly matters whether I've known this person for 4 years or for a month; the real meat of our understanding being what we do with the scant, immeasurable moments that we share this space.

And so when you, for even the infinitesimal point it is possible, convince yourself that there is no future and there is no past you can simply focus on the idea that this crystal moment is your entire existence. And I feel like if you could truly do it, meditatively and physiologically delude yourself (but what is the truth?) of the solitary second that is right now, it would feel like instantaneous birth and death. And maybe this means that after long nights of revelry and connection the rheumy ache in every crevice is my body slowly coming back to life.