And these are faces that are memorable in an instant, striking you in a flash. These faces haunt you for the very reason that you may never see them again. There is only the most fleeting of glimpses, yet out of the hundreds of faces that you have seen, and will see later, this one stays with you, following your thoughts and dreams as if the wind, a strange wind that is always moving all around us and through all creation, had suddenly come to a halt in your heart and thrown down this image to be lodged in your memory forever…
Time doesn’t hang on a wall.
It doesn’t tick by on a wrist.
It’s infinitely more secretive and intimate.
Time, contrary to all notions,
does not flow.
It’s not beautifully fluid, a murmuring river passing under a bridge.
In our heads, it hastens and halts and stumbles.
On occasion, it dissolves.
It ceases to exist.