Time flows like a river, continuous and unyielding, yet it often feels fragmented, echoing an age-old philosophical wonder.
Listen to the static of a turned-off radio, that raspy, constant noise—a murmuration of millions of tiny voices trapped in perpetual loop. What does it whisper about time?
When the circuit murmuring dies down, isn't it reminiscent of life pausing? Each crackle, a measure of moments lost, each hiss, an echo of decisions unmade.
The philosopher in us might ask, is the journey through static different from our journey through time? Both seem random, yet both might hide a pattern—a universe finding ways to speak through noise.
Consider how time might work in that noise, likened to a philosophical echo, demanding to be unraveled. Every time we listen carefully, do we hear the story of our days forwarding themselves in silence?
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