We are living interludes, bookended between not yet and no more, each of us a random draw of the cosmic lottery, each allotted a sliver of spacetime in which to live out our lives as chance configurations of stardust suspended in time. —— Maria Popova
A new year’s eve! Happy new year. What a time! So much is obscure—what gorgeous and fractious directions will our societies take? Will we consolidate from crises: these times, our new year, seems like quite a meeting point.
This enklavene is from the obscure, clouds in the moonlit storm, to the crystal clear morning and what is revealed, after the storm here, on New Year’s Eve.
Click on the clouds below to expand to full size. Then arrow on to the New Year Eve morning.