Among the trees there’s a place to sit and watch the water move. It falls as one and lands as thousands. Never permanent but always changing, each moment gone as soon as it is born. What if human life were so chaotic? A series of impermanent stochastic changes? But it is. Each heartbeat is unique. The two-hundred-and-eighteen-million-six-hundred-and-forty-nine-thousand-six-hundred-and-first breath is nothing like the two-hundred-and-eighteen-million-six-hundred-and-forty-nine-thousand-six-hundredth, and the two-hundred-and-eighteen-million-six-hundred-and-forty-nine-thousand-six-hundred-and-second may not even come. We are chaos, like water falling on stone.
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