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The textures, the grains, the contours, and the subtle light barely brushing the surface of, perhaps, a very old log sitting quietly in a meadow of wild flowers, perhaps an irony or perhaps the system displaying the very core of the reality and the truth behind the nature of how the nature evolves and moves on. The nature doesn’t dwell on what was or what could be. It is one of the most cruelest form of surgeons, either consciously or subconsciously.

My existence or my presence in a scene is so transient in the grand scheme of things that it makes me more than nervous. The log and the bark were there all along, perhaps years before I  even existed. and it may survive after I vanish. I am the visitor here with the least amount of time, and I am in the presence of something which has survived for what seems like ages. 

The feeling of smallness is way more than real. I can’t help appreciate the system’s impartiality and its ability to move on regardless of what role one played in a system. No matter how giant the tree was and how important a role it played in the ecosystem, now the tree and the squirrel rest in the same ground. It ended when the time was right, not less, not more; just right. 

How could a system create something like me who survives in dwelling and struggles to move on?  At times it feels like rolling a giant boulder uphill. I am part of the system, perhaps inactive and partially vocal, but I cannot deny the fortune of just being able to observe and ponder what once was and how peacefully it’s waiting to return where it came from.

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