When I travel I anticipate what each destination will be like before I get there. I imagine what each place will look like, sound like, smell like, and feel like. I am always wrong, which is part of the excitement of travelling. I have anticipated other things in life too: what it would be like to be a lover or a dad, what it would be like to lose a friend, get married, or take on any of the jobs I have assumed. At least, I used to; I don’t see the future anymore.
I don’t see retirement or old age, the 2030s or a new president. I don’t see death. My curiosity about the future has evaporated, leaving me in a small pool of the present with no faith in memories of the past and no vision of what lies ahead. It turns out that the land of the ever-present is a barren place.
The dance of days is over. Today is Wednesday.