Eight times away, I may stumble upon a storage of today. Something small—a fragrance, a word, or perhaps a fleeting thought—can point me back to this moment. It's unusual to genuinely believe that today might 1 day sense distant. However, the times in between may tether it to where I'm then.

Twenty days ahead thinks ambitious to envision. At the same time, workouts will deepen or disturb, relying on what functions unfold. It's a curious stability: just how much of eight weeks from today is my get a handle on, and how much merely happens to me? Twenty days will do time for a lifetime to remind me of both.

Eleven times feels good enough for change but short enough for familiarity. A small habit I undertake today may show its first signs of development by then. Or maybe, a choice I wait now may power it self upon me. The time taken between now and then is like both a present and a challenge.

A dozen days forward thinks such as a stretch. At this point, my thoughts begin to reduce grasp on details. As an alternative, I focus on subjects: what kind of person will I take a dozen days? Can I grow better, kinder, or maybe more resistant? Time grants me options to improve myself, if I let it.