“…then she was
walking away, her long legs scissor-like in their little, orderly movements. It
would take her thousands of steps to get anywhere, but she would get there
easily, and when she arrived, in the present, it would seem like it had been a
single movement that brought her there. Did existence ever seem worked for? One
seemed simply to be here, less an accumulation of moments than a single
arrangement continuously gifted from some inaccessible future.”
Monday, February 3, 2020
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