everything I’ve seen, and meld with the world here and now, the very notion of this infinitesimal node of time dwarfed by the colossus of my past and the looming eternity of my future sounding so absurd that I almost burst into laughter.

And then it’s gone.

I sit down at my desk, the contents of which matched my unkempt appearance. I took the test I’d written over the weekend out. Talking about history was what I did best. It was real to me. It is real to me. Not just something I’d read about. Of course, a lot of the stuff I learned after the fact anyway, because in the past I didn’t have access to learn about everything that went on in the world right when it happened. When I was living in western Africa during the revolutionary war, I really didn&r...

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