What would it be like to live in the moment? I mean, really, in the second, in the instant, where the future doesn’t exist and the only thing that counts is now: the hunger in your belly, the itch that needs to be scratched, the desire to sleep, the opportunity for comfort? I’m not sure. It seems to be a paradox; in one sense it must be so full of the pressures of need and response as to be exhausting, but in another sense it must feel quite empty.
