"The clock talked loud. I threw it away, it scared me what it talked." - Tillie Olsen

Isn't time a funny thing? The way it is forever changing, but always the same. Just as we are- always evolving and yet stuck in all that we are, what we were, what we could be. It is a wonderful paradox, time- it can be sincerely beautiful, the time that enables the growth of a beloved child into a man or the tender sapling's path to an old oak; the way it always moves on, even when it feels as if it should stop, that this is it, it moves on, and you live for one more moment. And time can be tragic, like the time that causes the atrophy of the body and mind, the time you never have enough of to say the things you should, or to do the things you feel that if- oh, if- you had been given more, surely you were meant to; the way it always moves on, even in moments when it feels that it should stop, it must, hasn't the whole world stopped? No. Time is there, moving and changing and staying the same.

There are people who are desperate to preserve this time, time that is all around them, and always has been. There are people who want nothing more than to forget time, but time is who we are, and all we will ever be. There are those who want to move time forewards, twist it backwards, even stop time itself for one still moment; yet time remains resilient and steadfast. We can count the time that has slipped away, the time that stands between us and our future, the time we have left in a moment- but the surest thing we can count on is that time will always be there. Forever moving, forever changing, forever still, forever the same.

If only we had enough, if only there wasn't so much of it standing between us.
-M