The instant is a temporal fragment that cannot be assigned a clear value and is more often forgotten than remembered. It is not a unit of continuous time, but a discrete occurrence that does not necessarily connect to what follows. Like fragments of matter, the instant embraces its own dissolution.
Every day, countless instants are lost. Nor do they accumulate—which provides some clue as to why they cannot be easily remembered. What is left behind instead is a residual impression.
These impressions are not measures of time, nor records of duration. They are the traces left when an instant passes away. Time appears here not as continuity, but as the uneven field in which such impressions remain available, forming the conditions under which further transformations may occur.