OhtaNotes

You are 37 trillion cells. They all, somehow, agreed to be you.

We treat life like a rough draft, always planning to revise it later.

Every week is a sentence. Tuesday is the verb.

We assume life has a shape. It may be a series of unrelated moments. That, somehow, is enough.

Don’t save your good ideas for Friday. They expire.

Decide with the information you have. More is coming, also uncertain.

We know Constantinople fell in 1453. We don’t know it fell on a Tuesday. The day of the week may matter more, though.

Monks call life a mystery. Scientists call life chemistry. My accountant calls life a liability.

My diet starts tomorrow. It has been starting tomorrow for eleven years.

We are given one life. We spend most of it wishing it were different.