what breadcrumbs are you meant to find? what delightful surprises are underfoot, waiting to be discovered? this little icon on the sidewalk in nyc seemed custom made for me. being 53 years old for only another week or so, how could I ignore its numerical significance?
even if the icon happens to be the trademark of some lower east side sex cult, or the number of biohazards about to be released into the atmosphere, it doesn't matter (and please don't tell me). for me, it's a reminder that this thing called time is nothing and, also, everything. days matter. moments matter. rather, we must make them matter.
until we are all just fixtures in the AI's slop, find the pieces of the world that make you stop, notice and think, with awe: really, for me?
Comments
Post a Comment