“Time is the indefinite continued progress of existence and events that occur in apparently irreversible succession...", "Ancient Egyptians believed that time is the worst enemy of human kind”, "Stephen Hawking in his book “A Brief History of Time” said…”, "It is just a number, you’re still young inside" and blah-blah-blah.
The train of thought is moving in uncertain directions - why can’t I just write “I’m getting older, hurrah!”? The wind behind my broken window is turning colder, with a scatter of rain. I’m done with being “twenty something” and entered the big round thirties. *laughing on my own dramatic skills*
I wanted to bring the subject of a birthday onto the vertex of philosophy, but I failed. From transcendental to the commonplace: three decades is a long time and it’s hard to resist writing up a kind of résumé.
I have dark past, complicated present and vogue future. I haven’t accumulated any basic comforts in my life, but I think I improved a great deal from the nothing I had. My life conditions are harsh, but my days are disciplined and full of work and creativity. Against all the odds, I’m a full time artist and I’m proud of it.
I would like to have a big party today, but I forgot to organise - how very sociable of me! I’m not upset, because I still have creepy rusty voice from the cold and talking outlaid is a challenge. But at least I bought ticket for a Jozef van Wissem concert, which is a good way to celebrate.