We begin and end our years with winter. The sleeping time, the resting time, the binding of time together into which we wander cyclically through ages of stories, of tragedies, of triumphs and struggles. Just as we sleep to wait for the coming day, the Earth sleeps softly and wakes into the springtime, rejuvenated and reborn out of last year’s leaves and into this one’s. Never ending, never slowing, ever constant is the passage of time and space, around us and with us as we are all so, so small in this grand scheme. Infinitesimal and insignificant in singular, but invaluable as a whole.
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