Time. It is fluid, fungible. Relative.
"The days run away like wild horses..." (hat tip: Charles Bukowski).
One day sort of schmears into another day. Woke up not knowing the name of the day. Just another one in a long line of days. Lately, thinking back to early days, some of my earliest days are my most vivid days. Alternatively, some decades just seem like a mist, a fog, a great cloud of unknowing. I mean, I know I lived thru some decades, but can't really grasp them. My memories don't really reside there.
Memories connect me to people, times and places that no longer exist. Times and places long ago, in a galaxy far away. So weird.
What is alive in me today? I guess we shall see...
