Recurring. That’s what’s happening now. Again and again, I weep, I whine, and I witness a happy ending in the middle of my story. What’s happening is an immersion to my own life. It’s been injected with more intimacies dispersing itself daily, ubiquitously. Here, now and elsewhere, every second. Every moment with D., every story, every taste, every shared laugh, every run, every pleasant drive, every chore, every read, every family, friend, every love all around.
I long, inextinguishably, to repeat every moment of my life.
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"How should I not be grateful to my whole life? -And so I tell myself my life." Nietzsche, Ecce Homo
