Where are we? What are we? What are we doing? Considering those questions, the answer can differ with each passing second. Our life is a continuous run against time and nature. The complexity of the world surrounding us reminds us that we are ephemeral, that in each season that passes, we slowly approach the destination we do not speak of. Death and ceasing to feel: ceasing to be and exist. It reminds us that we must be at our best, enjoy, feel, laugh, think, dream, do: and live every day the sun rises.
This continuous living, full of experiences and memories, makes each of those moments erased in time unique and unrepeatable. Even when we are flesh and blood, our passage through this world will be nothing more than the soft caress of silk on the skin. Making our existence a small performance that passes between light and shadow, between time and the seasons, those for which Vivaldi composed his own soundtrack to make them eternal regardless of whether he is no longer here; those seasons that are so abstract but that explain the passage of time. Time is the same concept with which we measure what we were, what we are, what we will be or what not.
Ultimately, we are just an ephemeral performance full of experiences, stories, moments, lights and shadows in a long and continuous life where we lose the notion of happiness and the simplicity of being alive.
