The new year is only marker in calendars, diaries and the marching of time. One can only be humble in the presence of the continuum.
Who knows the purpose a detour might serve? Sometimes it might seem as though a course of action is quixotic.
But further down the line, a moment presents itself where it suddenly makes sense that one stopped to smell the roses, once upon a time.
Are there lessons to be learnt from this?
Who am I, to know what’s good for anyone else?
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