Forever Is A Moment

One of the best things in life is when you create a moment with someone, that you wish could last forever.

But in the blink of an eye you’ve moved onto the next fragment, its entire existence vanished only to have been experienced by you.

Since the space we take up for this brief moment in time had been granted to us with an unstoppable force forward, we won’t ever be able to return to what once was. Nevertheless, we still try, with its effect and impact only ever to be realized in hindsight.

I love to see how we have the desire to express its impossible existence. How something that will never be captured identically by someone else, will ever so long be cherished and shared as if it could, through stories, music and art.

So as we cherish our moments while the present is captured by the past and as a memory is planted in our minds, I’d like to think that its only there that a moment can become untouchable to the forces that are yet to come, the only place in space and time where it can last forever.

Because forever, only ever was a moment.

Lust of the Eyes

On a sunny Sunday morning I walked into a café with the feeling that today would be a day for a cookie.

Whilst ordering a hot americano, I looked to see if they had any at the counter. Stacked in a little brown basket were a couple of fairly freshly baked cookies, about the size of my hand when stretched, wrapped in plastic and decorated with a colorful sticker stating when they were baked. They looked delicious.

I opted for the chocolate chip cookie because oh my, do I love chocolate. After paying by card, I grabbed a cookie out of the little brown basket. Once my order was complete, I sat down at the end of a long wooden table and grabbed my MacBook out of my brown Longchamp pliage. My MacBook made its start up sound as I took a sip of my warm americano.

I tore up the clear crisp plastic wrapper around the cookie and carefully split the soft cookie in half, and then again, in one eighth.

I brought the small piece to my lips and placed it in my mouth. The taste of sugar spread across my tongue as I chewed slowly on the piece of cookie. That's when suddenly my perception shattered:

I had been deceived.

While my teeth were still grinding on the little piece of cookie, I realized that the little chocolate chips were in fact not chocolate chips: They were raisins.

I was flooded with disappointment. How is it possible that I had been deceived by this known perpetrator, the one that had already ruined the mornings of so many? How come my eyes had seen a raisin cookie for what my mind desired it to be: a chocolate chip cookie?

Was I actually seeing it for what it was, or was I merely perceiving it through the will of my mind?

I was surpised. Not only by the cookie, but also by my eyes.

From that day on I never had a raisin cookie instead of a chocolate chip cookie again.

Because from then on,

I would just ask.