Measurements taken between distances, between surface and depth, top and bottom, are perspective glances into the woven fabric of time; into the vast nothingness which equates itself with itself, which holds steadfast and uninterrupted the very meaning of itself and cannot be determined nor structured. Structure is anathema to time which is happenstance; unpredictable; contingent. It has no boundaries. It is bound to itself and cannot be penetrated nor disassembled. It can only be ridden like a temporal wave into moments not yet revealed and instances containing all incongruities and circumstances crucial to every being that lays curled within its fold.
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