The wind blows across my face as I sit at the window of a running train. The train is making way over the tracks that connect and part from one another.
The train continues to move on. The wind that hits me on the face is because of the train, the tracks that are intertwined, the motion and the window.
The train is time, the tracks the events that have the intrinsic nature of being unpredictable and interlinked. What we call life is just looking out of the window on a running train and feeling the breeze against one's face...
The train continues to move on. The wind that hits me on the face is because of the train, the tracks that are intertwined, the motion and the window.
The train is time, the tracks the events that have the intrinsic nature of being unpredictable and interlinked. What we call life is just looking out of the window on a running train and feeling the breeze against one's face...
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