Tour for those of us who stay at home
What if things weren't as linear as we imagine?
We organize our days as if they were chains with beginning and end. We start at one link and count to 24, and then begin again. The heartbeats concatenate, the seconds proliferate to minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, lifetimes, and beyond? These chains whir around me, winking blinding fire, blurring the center, driving me in to the bowels of the earth.
Dizzy, I imagine these links unlinking, falling to the earth. Light-reflecting tesserae scattered at my feet. I choose and pick the pieces with meaning, with recognizable shape and calling, my hours like pieces of a puzzle to place randomly, where I like, ritualistically. A secret language. Whispered on my cave of sky -- the stars of my own personal constellation.
Constellations share stars. Some of my hours are also his. One star belongs to many, one hour explodes into a billion lifetimes. Jon isn't even in the same time zone I am, let alone country. Is there someone else there with him? Do I care?
We organize our days as if they were chains with beginning and end. We start at one link and count to 24, and then begin again. The heartbeats concatenate, the seconds proliferate to minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, lifetimes, and beyond? These chains whir around me, winking blinding fire, blurring the center, driving me in to the bowels of the earth.
Dizzy, I imagine these links unlinking, falling to the earth. Light-reflecting tesserae scattered at my feet. I choose and pick the pieces with meaning, with recognizable shape and calling, my hours like pieces of a puzzle to place randomly, where I like, ritualistically. A secret language. Whispered on my cave of sky -- the stars of my own personal constellation.
Constellations share stars. Some of my hours are also his. One star belongs to many, one hour explodes into a billion lifetimes. Jon isn't even in the same time zone I am, let alone country. Is there someone else there with him? Do I care?