Life. Reflecting on things. Past. Things that are gone but did they happen or are they kind of feelings based on partial events. I’m sitting near my fire. It’s warm. Toasty. The log burner is kicking heat out from lovely red wood embers. Spring is almost here. Winter is disappearing. Memories of years gone by well up in my mind. Facets of life from different times combine to come back to the forefront of my mind. Do I crave some elements of my childhood and younger self still? Do feelings come from old thoughts and happenings of from now and the recollection of things? The past is such a strange beast. It’s gone but did it ever truly exist. When we go to sleep and wake up did any of that past really exist? Are memories real? Photos and videos, are they really real? Past conversations. Past angers. Past. The past. Is it really gone. What does the future hold? Death is the only certainty of the future. All else is speculation. Conjecture. Nothing is permanent. Nothing truly exists.
