Writing in Time

The horribly terrifying yet tragically beautiful thing about writing is that the moment for which thoughts exist is just that, a moment. Naturally, thoughts depart as fantastically as they arrive, and to discover immortalization — on paper as the traditionals or electronically as a product of great human innovation — renders itself as valuable as lapis lazuli to the ancient artist. If not recorded in its prime, simple thoughts, ideas, and intuition forfeit their organic quality to the distortion of memory when left to bleach in the sun. Writing must not be postponed, for it is now — it is the present; writing that is postponed no longer constitutes as documentation but mere historical recollection.

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