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We live in time, it holds us and molds us. But I never felt I understood it very well. And I’m not referring to theories about how it bends and doubles back, or may exist elsewhere in parallel versions.

No, I mean ordinary, everyday time, which clocks and watches assure us passes regularly: tick-tock, click-clock.

Is there anything more plausible than a second hand? And yet it takes only the smallest pleasure or pain to teach us time’s malleability.

Some emotions speed it up, others slow it down; occasionally, it seems to go missing; until the eventual point when it really does go missing, never to return.

~ The Sense of an Ending