How about the process of trying to figure out what to write about. It’s not like I’m going to come to a clear decision about the topic. I’ll sit here for awhile. I’ll ponder. I’ll type something then press backspace. Then I’ll churn something out. Somehow words appear on the page. It’s quite a delightful process, writing. Isn’t it an act of creation? Somehow, some words came out of me and now they are on paper. The paper is no longer all white. There are some black markings on it. Time will pass, mountains will turn to dust and those marks will no longer mean anything. Isn’t that our fate as well? Fucking DUH. Yes, we’re all going to die and everything turns to dust. But that’s just the way things are, they are impermanent. So let’s rejoice in our existence and embrace our sooner, rather-than-later, visit to the deathbed.
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