Time doesn't even present itself, without excitement, without a chance. It passes without leaving a trace and takes the world with it. It takes the world to live and brings death. A strange, intimate being. It passes suspiciously, so sneakily that you need to constantly think about it. Omnipotent, omnipresent... Am I just a cog with the sole purpose of allowing it to pass and continue to be felt, and therefore, existing? Or am I just a result of an inevitable chain of coincidences in front of eternity, and therefore, the living proof of it? The infinite assumes that there can be neither an end nor a beginning. And I, as an organic circumstance, fear death, why? If I've been dead all the time even before I was born? Fuck it. Screw all lack of choice! And screw time too! Because thinking about it is losing it.
// Oil on Canvas handmade painted by Susano Correia. The NFT represents the digital piece.
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