The Bread.

What is there but the present? To be happy, to be sad, to cry, to shout with joy, to exist but in the present. The rest is a mirage. A construct of human mind to deal with his life. To categorize time, to cut it into slices of past, present, future, like a bread loaf being sliced into small pieces. Slice if you may, but remember to not forget the that it was a bread loaf to begin with, to not forget it’s taste, it’s constituency, to enjoy and savour every bite, that must be the purpose of life. Make a sandwich out of those pieces, butter it, grill it, make the time you have into what you want because when that bread finishes there might not be any other food left. For a starving population like ours that must be the principal of life, to be born, to live, to taste and engulf that bread slowly, as if your life hangs on it, and when that loaf is finished, to die and be born again with a new loaf.