Sometimes I feel like our lives are essentially a repetition of the same moment, or feeling, over and over again. Maybe not repetition exactly, but like everything we do and experience revolves around that one sensation or intangible memory. It shapes everything we do, it's imprinted in our gray matter like our fingerprints on blank generic human flesh, and it becomes us and makes everything in our lives our own. It's impossible to escape, and probably virtually impossible to pinpoint exactly. It's hard to make sense of, but it can't be ignored. And sometimes I feel like the only way to be genuinely satisified with life, and still live productively and grow, is to recognize the necessity of finding variation in repetition. Like tracing the circles that emanate out from that intangible fingerprint memory.