[Book.]

I have heard tell that this is my story.

Once upon a time, time began, and it lined all sequences up, from all which had been the primordial chaos. But you can’t get there from here anymore: infinite detail skipped over, from then to two weeks back: rises and falls, fire and space, distance and trees. And one thing: we do not know if we are alone. When I came into this world, it was as if I had entered a great river, whose source I could never fathom, and its destination only hinted at, ever, in the days where I swam these rapids — trying with dear might just to keep my head above the water…. And what happened to happen two weeks ago, that I put it in the league of cosmic time? Nothing. People shoved and yelled and kicked and fell, just like any other day; it is arbitrary. Therein is the mystery: destiny will take a random value and subject it to such withering heat it cannot help but become alchemical gold. All days were arbitrary, once — all that you hold dear.