We lose ourselves in between what precedes and what is to come. We store our memories on one side and dreams on the other, as though proliferating them could make us happy. But we only find ourselves lost. We seek a place for ourselves. We try to buy yesterday and today from the passage of time. We seesaw constantly between the past and the future. But we only rent a place. We are not the owners of our schemes. They are either over or have not yet begun.
More than anything we are in t ...