The origin point. Every timeline begins with a single inscription -- the first mark cut into the void. Before this, nothing. After this, everything.
One revolution complete. The earth returns to where it began, but the timeline does not loop. It only descends.
Four years measured. The leap day arrives -- an extra beat in the rhythm of orbital mechanics, a correction written into the calendar's source code.
Twenty-seven years, four months, and sixteen days. A human generation measured not in stories but in the cold arithmetic of elapsed sunrises.
TEMPUS FUGIT
One century. The full measure of a long human life. Every empire, every revolution, every forgotten afternoon -- compressed into a five-digit number.
Time is the substance
I am made of
Time is a river which
sweeps me along
but I am the river
seconds in every day
bcd.day