Just after midnight, after wishing my sleeping wife a happy new year, I got out of bed to cough and drink some water and watch fireworks on the distant horizon. The sound of the fireworks travelled insensibly across the miles, thundering randomly after their bursting illuminations. Way off in the cold night, across an empty world, a blossoming circle of shimmering white light would burst in the sky. And then, when it felt like it, the sound of the explosion would amble my way and reverberate in my ears.
Standing there I was consumed by thoughts of time again.
Yesterday I had been thinking of its orderly nature, how a longitudinal line, like the second hand of a great clock, came sweeping towards us, lighting us up in succession with each new second. But now suddenly, looking down on the city and the sweeping curve of earth, I was just as sure it was nothing like that.
It's more like this:
Sometimes it is now. And sometimes we are unstuck from our minds, and wandering among the seconds, backwards and forwards.
Time. Time is loose and roughly fixed. Yes, it moves forwards, but it glitches and sticks and skips and...
We don't belong to any of it.
It belongs to us.