1899-12-30 0000 00.00 There is no time, We are a fixed point of awareness floating inexorably forward on a river of memory. As we are rowing, We face backwards, Staring at where we have come from, And trying to guess what the river ahead may bring. We dare not glance forward for the fear of the deadly wier, And so we imagine it's appearance, at every stroke of the oars.
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