Material abundance has long stripped rigid constraints from numbers like 2025 or 2026, we can traverse space and enjoy all seasons at will, making our days largely identical. Yet this is precisely where the danger lies—when everything is within easy reach, life easily falls into the endless repetition of homogenization.
That is why we need the “year.” Not for the number itself, but for its rhythm. It is a rhythm of tidying up unfinished business and then being inspired to set out again. It is an artificially created “caesura,” used to resist the flat, straightforward narrative of meaninglessness.
The ideal state, perhaps, is to use the rhythm of the year to break the limits of the year. To keep life from becoming a closed loop, and instead embody the logarithmic spiral: turning with every day, yet with every cycle, growing further outward into a wider, more expansive existence.