Counting the Days

We rarely notice time while we’re living inside it.

Only later do we realize how carefully it was shaping us.

This piece is a reflection on finitude—not as urgency, but as clarity. On how meaning doesn’t arrive all at once, but accumulates through ordinary days, repeated choices, and attention given to what actually matters.

Purpose here is not discovered.

It is assembled, slowly,

by how we choose to spend what cannot be replenished.