A Tale for the Time Being

by Ruth Ozeki

I believe it doesn’t matter what it is, as long as you can find something concrete to keep you busy while you are living your meaningless life.

The past is weird. I mean, does it really exist? It feels like it exists, but where is it? And if it did exist but doesn’t now, then where did it go?

It’s the cold fish dying in your stomach feeling. You try to forget about it, but as soon as you do, the fish starts flopping around under your heart and reminds you that something truly horrible is happening.