One’s conception of time is perhaps the most defining characteristic of one’s worldview. It’s also the primary method by which one decides how to organize a list or tell a story. For some, perhaps most, time is a linear progression of events leading to an inevitable end; however we feel about the end, it’s final, and there is a vague sense of satisfaction in this. If a story doesn’t have an end, it might not even be a story. For others, time is a fragmented, endless and random series of occurrences that one can hope not to make sense of, but only to live through. And still others equate time with organic life—a cyclic progression and return, where there are no beginnings or endings, only markers. How we arrange these markers is how we construct meaning.
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