In all the beauty of the world that comes and goes, is born and dies, seen and forgotten, treasured and perhaps preserved onto emulsion or the mind's eye -
Where does time go?
Einstein deemed time an illusion, that we all just think it's there as we'd probably all go balmy if we really admitted the truth. We shroud ourselves with clocks and schedules to meet time's demands. We like to panic, we like to be late or early or on time. We like to put time aside for other pursuits, so time doesn't escape us. But it's inevitable really, because it always does.
My grannie is 93 years old. She said once, "When I look in the mirror sometimes I get a fright, for I feel the same as I did when I was in my 20s and I see this old lady looking back at me!" She's got all her marbles, sometimes I think more than I do.
We house our souls throughout this life and squander time at will, for pleasure or pain, or whatever reason we think is fitting. We spend time thinking of what we might do when the time comes, or how we will spend our time over summer, as we puddle jump through winter waiting for its arrival.
Day turns to night and night into day, clocks tick on, our hair grows longer, our faces wiser. So it seems time is passing.
Or are we passing time?
During the time I had these thoughts, I made a new journal. Now for sale in my Etsy shop.