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“It passes away like the end of a day, like a toddler’s first goldfish, like a leaf in the autumn, like grandparents, like fruit flies, like memories, like a flower that’s been picked, like childhood and youth, like Ozymandias, like a worm that gets eaten by a bird that gets caught by a cat that gets hit by a car, like starving children across the world, like everything. The days weave together, a million tiny moments that I despise or savour or simply notice one at a time as I fall deeper and deeper into silence and into God, which is just another word for Love.” — D.M. Ditson
It passes away like the end of a day, like a toddler’s first goldfish, like a leaf in the autumn, like grandparents, like fruit flies, like memories, like a flower that’s been picked, like childhood and youth, like Ozymandias, like a worm that gets eaten by a bird that gets caught by a cat that gets hit by a car, like starving children across the world, like everything.
The days weave together, a million tiny moments that I despise or savour or simply notice one at a time as I fall deeper and deeper into silence and into God, which is just another word for Love.