A year isn't really that long, is it? 365 days hardly compare to how long an hour can be, or a minute, or a second. Watch a microwave sometime - a single second can take forever. Lifetimes can pass is a minute.

And yet a year is infinitely longer than any of those, and yet so much shorter. The year's halfway done already - where did the time go? It was just snow and Christmas. Now it's hot and another semester has gone by, and the rest of the year will be gone in the flash of an eye.

What is a year? Fifty years ago, my dad was born. Four hundred and one years ago, the Globe Theatre burned to the ground. In fifty years, hardly no one will remember my father. In four hundred and one years, they'll still remember the Globe Theatre.

A hundred years ago yesterday, a man shot an Austrian Archduke and started a chain of events that led to WWI - and, in turn, led to WWII, which led to the Cold War, which led to my father joining the army, which led to me being born in a country that no longer exists, which led to me being here now, which led to you reading this.

A hundred years ago today, somebody tried to kill Rasputin. They failed, but people still talk about him. One hundred thirty-three years ago, Mahammad Ahmad declared himself to be the Madhi. Sixty-nine years ago, the USSR annexed Carpathian Ruthenia. Seven years ago, Apple released the first iPhone.

History is never really history. That past never dies. It's still effecting us. 
That is does. It never ends. Today and tomorrow and yesterday all weave together in a web from which we cannot escape.