fires burn throughout the parallel dimensions of our lives. what is a person other than a temporary contraction of matter, that waddles through the burning world trying to become something transcendent? it's metaphysical jazz and nobody knows how it will go. we try not to think about it, but we poked by a divide, a wide wide variety of possibilities. years... we might get 30 more, we might get 5. we start epic projects without knowing if we will have anywhere near the time necessary to complete them. we push the boulder and manage the crop. we plan out things, schedule our time. the world is on fire while we scamper to transcend. "we're running out of time!" metaphysical jazz bullies us, and we've no choice but to dance.