“The strangeness of Time. Not in its passing, which can seem infinite, like a tunnel whose end you can’t see, whose beginning you’ve forgotten, but in the sudden realization that something finite has passed, and is irretrievable.”

I saw this quote today, from Joyce Carol Oates’ novel Foxfire: Confessions of a Girl Gang, 1993, and realized this has been haunting me lately, the feeling of all the irretrievable things and moments that have passed, a glimmer of the finite nature of this life, a heightened sense of urgency, of too little time remaining to do and to write all the things that are still undone and unwritten. I’m driven to get these myriad thoughts written before it’s too late.

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