untitled for now. (eventually crossposted to 48hours)

"It's the moments that illuminate it, though. The times you don't see when you're having them... they make the rest of it matter."
-Neil Gaiman's Death

My life so far has been filled with moments; passing fragments of time and space, which can be relived but not rewound, cradled but not clenched. Castles of sand on the beach of my memory.

I'd try and make as many of them as I could in my last 48 hours, both for me and for my loved ones.
If I'm off to the Intergalactic Council of Poopy, then I'm going to need them.
If I'm dead, then those who will have known me will be needing them.

Grab a shovel and bucket, or just use your hands: there's moments to be made, and not much time to do it in.