Time and body

How dizzyingly fast the passage of time is. Almost without realising it, I rush towards the last months of this annual journey that thousands of students undergo.

Readaptation is as scary as a Sunday at home, it's nine in the evening, you're seven years old, and your mother turns off the TV, turns to you, and says: "Time for bed." I try to convince myself that it's not Sunday and that I'll never leave. Just like I used to when I was seven. In the end, humans are creatures of habit. 

The other day, while I was in that university lecture hall watching a movie, I remembered that I needed to buy contact lens solution. I grabbed a pen and wrote it in my hand so I wouldn't forget. The movie finished, we debated about it for a while and, as we were already outside the building, my friend warned me that I had smeared my face with the ink that was on my hand. 

In the act of trying to remember, in the struggle against forgetting, lies the foolishness of human nature.

I feel the same way about the memories I create: I want them to be imprinted throughout my entire body. As a mediator between time and space, I only have my body, which I mistreat with hugs and the warmth of those accompanying me. Our bodies will never cease to struggle against the dimension of time. This time, my blog is a call to awaken, learn, and enjoy. 

These are our glory days.