At one of the central bus stations in Ottawa I had a strange yet profound experience. As strangers bustled past me, I became acutely aware of the fleeting nature of life and the imperminance of the scene around me. I've had this feeling before, but this time it was incredibly strong. Every person walking past me seemed to belong to a moment that would soon be lost. I stood, gazing over the edge of the exceedingly vast chasm of all the preceding time before this moment, and the moment was overwhelmed and swallowed - insignificant yet so precious.

I felt as if I were an observer from the future - as if I knew that all the people around me would soon be gone. I was fascinated by the faces moving past, I could almost see them in the sepia tones of a crinkled nineteenth century photograph. It was as though everyone was just a fleck of foam on a wave in the ocean, just here for a moment and gone in an instant. All of the hurrying seemed meaningless, all of the people seemed beautiful. The feeling was indescribable . . . but I thought I'd try anyways.