Something happens and from the moment it begins to happen, nothing can ever be the same again.
* * *
Something begins and already it is no longer the beginning, but something else, propelling us into the heart of the thing that is happening. At each moment we are no longer where we were, but have left ourselves behind, irrevocably, in a past that has no memory, a past endlessly obliterated by a perpetual motion that carries us into the present. And whoever tries to find refuge in only one place, in only one moment, will never be where he thinks he is.
it is what it is 