Kintsugi

We reflect our identity as the seasons change, in the same way that a clock’s needles mark the pass of time. The paradoxes of the self tell us about what we have lost of ourselves, but in order to repair what has been broken, beliefs have to be imported from distant cultures. 

Are we the same throughout the pass of time? Maybe it is in the limit of the ephemeral where our true identity lies. The pieces now fit forming something beautiful: what once were painful burns are now the sublime evanescence of the Self. It is possible to be reborn and to be remade continuously: as the cycles of nature show us, no winter has yet subjugated​ the spring.