Today.

As my last few weeks in Paris wind down, and the wide open fields of months I get to spend here have winnowed into days, hours, and minutes - I know as I have before that there won't be time to do everything. I won't get another evening walk in Tuileries. Get to go to that little cafe I loved one more time. Take the train out to Orléans like I mean to, every summer. That every stop, every season, there are things that will be left undone.

It's become one of my favorite parts of changing places every few months: to be reminded how important now and today are, how ephemeral and illusory tomorrow can be. That nothing is guaranteed, and that at the end of it all, none of us will get to do everything thing that we wanted.

That the best we can do is to show up, fully for as many todays as we can, suck the marrow out of life, and fill our moments with real, not fake.

I look down at the words I've tattooed on my wrist to remind me of this exact lesson.

I notice that the tattoo edges have blurred a little, time diffusing everything; entropy always victorious.

And I smile. Grateful.

I'm still here. You're still here. We still get today.

With lots of love, -Steven

p.s. The best thing I saw all week was this photo by Markus Naarttijärvi. So much time, stacked into one frame.