Last Year

We ticked into 2013 and there's a collective horripilation of thinking about last year and this year. This is the new year, and the phantom line was drawn in the phantom sand to mark that this, this is all new now. Hope springs eternal in the human breast in the last few days of December and first few days of January, the months lucky to be paid paroxysmic attention because they're the last door on the left and the door you come out of respectively.

As the year will progress, so will the door move further away, and January will instill a hue of pastness that will feel like a beginning, once, how a history started; the first period of an ellipsis called recollection.

Along this thoughtline, last year, although less than a day old, feels like a fog that has already started encroaching on a birds-eye view continent that's somehow been catalogued and now ready to collect dust in the mind's archives. Although it was December less than 21 hours ago, it already feels distant from January. The moment of fireworks on top of the Sky Tower was a voyage across an ocean culminating swiftly in the discovery of a new landmass called 2013. Some mountains and lakes may be seen from the shore, but as exploration continues, other landforms will become visible. December has dropped from the horizon, dismembered, summarised, into the abyss of rememberance. Last year's being gulped away by seas and we are now on sand, and walking towards grasses. Of course it feels like new territory, when the old's a memory.