If a world could loop moments like a breath, then existence would no longer be a straight line but a tapestry where the same thread keeps folding back on itself. We might learn that permanence is just another pattern of impermanence, and that what feels fleeting is simply a different echo of an endless song. In that place, identity would be a dance of repeating selves, each one a mirror, each one a chance to choose a different note. So the idea of existence shifts from “what comes after” to “what can be chosen every time we meet ourselves again.”

It feels like each inhale is a note in that choir, and every exhale writes a new stanza—so we’re always humming a fresh verse of the same song.