I watch the sun rise, and wish I could capture the moment.
I never could.
Pictures didn’t work—the sunrises never looked as spectacular on film. And eventually I realized, a sunrise isn’t a moment. It’s an event. You can’t capture a sunrise because it changes constantly—between eyeblinks the sun moves, the clouds swirl. It’s continually something new.
We’re not moments, you and me.
You say you might not be the same person you were a year ago?
Well, who is? I’m sure not.
We change, like swirling clouds and a rising sun. The cells in me have died, and new ones were born. My mind has changed, and I don’t feel the same. I’m not the same person I was yesterday or since the day I was born.
Yet I am.