Out The Window

Ida: Innocia, do you ever stare out the window often?

Innocia: Not many people do that, do they, Ida? People find themselves too concerned with the present to want to look at such stuff.

Ida: Oh? I'm not so sure you're entirely accurate when you say that, Innocia. Look at this, Innocia. The darkness of the modern city, the stationary fireflies lined up in the vast blackness. What do you see? What comes to mind?

Innocia: I see the times where I walked down on those streets with my brother, the times last Christmas when I was lost and met an interesting person in return for that. I see the times where I will walk down the street once again, wondering whether or not I will find myself lost again. Amidst all this I see the lone lampposts, and think that the scenery hasn't changed much.

Ida: A beautiful answer, Innocia; one that hardly belittles your age. Might you honor me with your ears with what I see outside the window, then?

Innocia: What is it that you see, then?

Ida: The darkness of the modern city, the stationary fireflies lined up in the vast blackness. I think of what others might be thinking at the same moment I am, staring at the lights against the darkness. I wonder at how many people there will be staring up at the star-scattered sky, thinking the exact same question as I am this moment. I feel the wind and hear its susurruses, and I hear the words of others in the present. I never really cared too much about whether those people staring up at the lone lampposts are going to stare at them tomorrow, but I appreciate their looking up at it today at this moment.

Innocia: I'm afraid I cannot share such similar views to that of yours, Ida.

Ida: Perhaps you are taking for granted what we always have. People have always looked back at the past for the reason that it is gone. People have always looked into the future for the reason that it has yet to come. They say not to take granted the uncertain future and the bygones of the past; yet what have they truly forgotten in this world? It is the fleeting present, Innocia - the moment that comes between both, the transitional period between sentiment and foresight. It is precisely because it is right in front of our eyes that we fail to appreciate its transient nature, Innocia. I apologize for quoting rather than creating, but gather ye rosebuds while ye may.

Innocia: It would be nicer if your quoting was actually relevant. Honestly, though, what is the value of that which you call 'now'? There is no sentimental value, nor is there any potential value in the world of the present. Can you honestly bear any true feeling towards something that disappears so quickly? There is no mark of eternity in the present, Ida, nothing compared to the stone etchings of the past and the tabula rasa of the future.

Ida: The value, Innocia, is in the fact that the past and future are unchanging eternities, whereas the present is the only eternal change. Have you ever wanted to stay somewhere forever? Like someone eternally?

Innocia: There's no such thing, is there?

Ida: There isn't. The only thing there is this seemingly eternal time, Innocia - the illusion that you can be there forever. In that place. With that person. And that's just the beauty of it all - it doesn't last. Engravings of the grandest works go down in the hallmarks of history, but true beauty lies in experience - that which only lies in the present. You are a child, Innocia. One with ideals for the future; one with a short past. Perhaps you just need to grow up a bit more before you realize and understand the beauty of being in the place where you actually are, not having your mind and spirits far away in space and time.

Innocia: Or maybe unlike you I have far more to look forward to than to look at.

Ida: Perhaps so. But the open window can only see, it cannot dictate what it is that you perceive. And whether it be perceived by rationalization or ideals or just the clear window is up to you.

Innocia: Perhaps so.

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This took 3 days. I'm losing touch. Or maybe I just haven't written about Innocia in a long time.