Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Barbie And The Crying Woman, Time of Their Lives
The end of 2014 is nigh upon us. Nigh! Marking time, as we do, forces us to consider time as a thing, when it is really only a point of reference. A nebulous point of reference at that, like raindrops in a thunderstorm, sand on the bottom of the ocean, all of the bones stacked beneath the streets of Paris. I think back on the year that was, the events, the experiences, the people I love, all that I saw, the miles that I trekked, up early in the morning with the dog, predawn, finding Orion shimmering in the ink of the sky, and I think that there are those things outside of time, although technically they aren't, but they are.