Time must not exist where space buns are concerned, because another spring, another summer has come and nearly gone. I find myself dreaming of autumn (although, who am I kidding, I do that before summer has a chance to set in). Time passing will never fail to stun me, to sadden me, to make me more nostalgic than anyone should have to be within a single moment. And right now is no exception. There's nowhere I'm really going with this. I'm just awed. Shrinking in awe mingled with apprehension before a ruthless deity with power to move anything on this planet that can be moved, and everything that cannot. I try my best to live in the moment, but inevitably wake up to a thousand moments past.