Time is Butter

An excerpt from a journal entry.

It is Wednesday Jan 28, 2026. Time is slipping by and I must grab on to every available moment before the well runs dry. Time is butter. Hard and full and sturdy and shapley when you first get it. Surprisingly malleable. You can’t fathom how fast it goes. It doesn’t matter if you slip a knife through intentionally taking it in the tiniest of pieces, cut it in chunks, or subsume the whole thing. It will be devoured, melted, lose its shape, and disappear.