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For some reason today I actually looked at the doorknobs in my apartment. Examined the hardware, admired its shape. Dark metal against a white wooden door. Crystal knob. History. They’ve been here for a while. And me? I’ve been here a year, I’ve looked at these knobs hundreds of times, touched them just as many. But I’ve never seen them. I may have given them a glance, thought they were beautiful. But I’ve never given them the careful examination and consideration they deserve. They’re not really mine. I’m a resident here, but nothing here is really mine.

And I want to take a trip. To visit a place that isn’t mine. With things and people I can love, and inevitably have to say goodbye to. Because nothing here, and nothing there, is really mine. And nothing here, and nothing there, is really yours.

And all I have is now.

And all you have is now.

And all we have is now.