I blink and the clock is different: different shape, shorter hands, changed time. I turn around and catch the past running away swiftly like a thief. I stop. I gather what I haven't lost yet. I decoupage glimpses and considerations and events and people and thoughts and inspiration. I redeem lost moments. I am the collector, arranger, and finalizer of this montage, museum, scrapbook. I am in the paste that holds them all together. I will permanent the sense that has yet to be made.
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