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