…Those who dwell in the past never see the light and are arrested in its eternal darkness, as light is only present during the day. Today. By dwelling in the past we’re repeating past compositions, stacking fresh paint on our predecessor's incomplete work. The colour may change but the composition remains the same. We become bound to the repetition of itself like those moving pictures stuck on replay— Scene one to scene eleven. No, Act One to act eleven. No, from page one to page eleven. No, line one to line eleven. No, word one to word elev- Bound to the repetition of itself, like those moving pictures stuck on replay.

Most live their lives carrying the burdens of yesterday while doing what is necessary for the promise of tomorrow, or rather, the tools to seize the day. Should we then cease the day if we are to see the future? Is the promise of the future enough to take the next step? A step of faith, a step with no instruction. Damned if I do, damned if I don't.