I stand in a room, noticing the walls that create the square I stand.
I then wonder what proof there was that today existed. There is none.
No one in a year, let alone in a millennium, would know that this day existed. Not how the day existed through my eyes, at least. That was a point I could understand.
But then I wondered–was there any proof of yesterday?
What happened yesterday? Do the pictures I took encapsulate every sight I witnessed and every thought I ruminated over in that now forgotten void of yesterday?
Where did the yesterday and yesterdays go? I figure it sits in a dark place strung with cobwebs with all other days, forgotten and unimportant, hidden in a square of a room where human entry (while not forbidden) is not commonplace. It stays there as storage and provides the foundation of how yesterday affects tomorrow.
Or it is a cracked and silent egg whose yolks have dried and evaporated into yesterday.