A day like any other

(A note I wrote down before:)

Saturday felt like a day out of someone else's story. I felt more aware of the world, recognising some sort of patterns of narrative. It's kind of backwards, isn't it, that thinking your life as a story makes the whole experience feel more real. Life is so arbitrary and meaningless – in all its complexity, even – that, I suppose, reading it like a narrative puts everything in order, and makes it possible to feel curiosity about the future.

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