Time is a curious thing—referred to as marching on, slipping away, or standing still. How can something as omnipresent do any of the above without our notice? I am convinced more today than yesterday that the deciding factor is perceptually based. Good or bad circumstances tend to deliver us to opposing states. During bad circumstances we become aware of an ugly excess and during joyful times we cannot grasp a single fleeting second for preservation. It is my observation we cannot fully comprehend and appreciate the expanse of such things as time, and my supposition that we are broken internally, whereby naturally we only have the capacity to operate within the outside bands of the spectrum, whittling away at a daunting pile of unwanted measures or wistfully pining for those blurry moments past. Perhaps true living begins when we become resistant to the corrosive outside influence of circumstance, i.e. the world spinning around us. That we neither wish away nor ask for a single moment back, that no matter how they bend or break us that we remain resolute in diligently searching until we find value and purpose in all of them.