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An Elegy for Summer

This is euphoria: the art of painstakingly purging blistered and withered melanin. This is apocalypse: the wait, waiting and waiting for the tear of vapours, of sweat and oil. Summer is judgement season, death and resurrection.

Time

a complex entity
beyond the logics of physics

on the one hand
moves faster than
usual when shared
but slows down intensely
when perceptual anticipation
of its continuum is present
on the other

these conceptions serve
as your stimuli to savour
every fleeting moment
as it happens

instead of focusing on
orders and linearities
you become more mindful
focused on the flow itself
the immediate present
the absolute
(and not relative)
value of time

you don't quantify nor qualify
its progressions
its materiality

you consume it
without worrying
about intervals

time
is
always
timely

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