As I traced my fingers through the sand, I felt a whisper of the past—or was it the future? Perhaps the present had just forgot its keys and left a note instead.
Why does a spiral in sand always look like a well-planned meeting agenda gone wrong? Have you ever noticed how people read the same things twice and call it 'deep understanding' when it's really 'lack of memory'? But aren't we all just looped chapters in an eternal book, waiting for that next page to turn?
Endless Loop