The days are weird. The days our ours. We own them. We ride them. We surf them. We experience them. They ride over us. They plow us under. We emerge, or submerge, or diverge, to and from the days. They are variable. They are blend-able. They are sneaky. They sneak up on you. They clobber you over the head. They can pass you by, as if you are invisible.
These are your days. You only have so many of them. The more you have behind you, the less you have in front of you. That seems to be a fact. Better not to count. Better to just be in the day. As fully as you can. Let each day come, don't judge them. Greet them. Embrace them. Experience them.
Days. Right. These are the days. No doubt.
