Adaptation is when you learn to not fall off a broken seat in the Adamjee cafe when there’s only one seat left. Sometimes, adaptation becomes repetition, until you can’t tell apart your every-day bravery from habit. So here’s a reminder: Removed from repetition, the probability of another combination built in your name, life and history, is exactly zero. Removed from habit, you are a miracle in your verse and in your biology that arrives at perception, and how it is still a neuro-scientific secret. Removed from posterity, you are three thousand volts of wonder that moves the world along.
Removed from mirror, when you are new sight, when the data calculations in your head are sampling a new never-before, you are like nothing else that has ever been, quite literally. So with half-attuned eyes, bitten nails, dusty converse, falling-brick words and matchstick dreams, you thunder on, you march like soldier, you stop like friend, you run like schedule and you stall like holiday.
Removed from the rest of your days, in this now, you are still alive. Could be, could be, could be. So much could be. Build on it. There is hope still.