Monday, January 4, 2010

Tempus fugit

The ancients believed that we come into the world with a finite number of breaths. And so to some extent we do, just not in the preordained way they thought. As I watch my exhalations take wing in the chilly morning air I remember that each one could at any moment be my last. Some people think I am morbid but I think it's stranger still to ignore the transitory nature of your existence. There is great beauty in impermanence, and once you accept that you are free.


runnerfrog said...

J.L. Borges had a dream about this in Edinburgh, and beautifully described it in "The Conspirators".

Claire said...

What a beautiful photograph. I love the idea of breaths becoming butterflies. If they really did, what a pretty world it would be!

Tai said...

Claire, that would be a lovely world; full of caterpillars and milkweed and lupine and eucalyptus trees.

Cristian, everything comes back to Borges, in the end. As it should.