What is it? What is it?

Eleven phonemes, four vowels, seven consonants, a word that means to embrace the moment, to live deeply, to refuse the temptation of "one day," as if life were merely something to endure, to survive.

Some believe existence is just suffering, a passage of time, a burden to carry. Somebody once said to me that time is a flat circle, that you can't help but relive. Is there a way to break this sphere that traps most of us? I decided to change it.

I watched cotton candy clouds transform across the serene sky— one duck following another, fleeing the dark clouds behind them, or two snakes with heads raised, or simply an eleven.

I miss when these were my only thoughts, before pressure pulled me toward one side, then the other, in a culture where just being present is not appreciated. It was a long time ago, laughing until my cheekbones ached with exhaustion.

Now, stepping on the shoulders of our peers, racing for emails, offers, connections.

The jobs we chase reveal nothing of who we are, while the clouds continue their patient parade across skies we've forgotten how to see.

Even as I try to escape this cycle, something pulls me back in— a current too strong to resist alone in this ocean of expectations, where rest feels like failure.

Sometimes being sad changes nothing— only action does.

Should I be grateful? Am I a victim? Is there something more than this? I don't know, and maybe I will never know. That is life and it's beautiful. That is why it is beautiful. The answer may lie deep in that endless blue sky, scattered around all those thoughts we so desperately want to understand. The answer might be as trivial as a simple feeling, or so impossible to achieve that one might never find. Not spend a precious gem — time — in the search for something so ephemeral, that might be the reason for the path: To be a Livsnjutare,

to let my imagination run And run And run.