Once in high school, I was laying down and looking at the ceiling. Thinking that eternity is like an endless desert. You look behind and everything is sand. You look ahead and everything is also sand.

Then I think to myself “Isn’t life kinda monotone?”

So I start to imagine the alternative: that the endless desert doesn’t even exist and everything is colorless nothingness.

“Hmm… This is even more boring than a one-colored desert.”

So there I was, looking at my navel and being grateful that, at least, I have the sand of time to play and make colors with.

Playing with sand for eternity. Not so bad as long as it’s fun.

“Is it even eternal though?”

What if we only get to be conscious for a limited amount of time?

“Well… Dead men cannot care.”

Then I got up and read some books.