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Time
When I was a child time was dripping slowly like honey. It consisted only of today. Then came tomorrow, the day after tomorrow became reality. I could look back upon yesterday’s scars.
Now it is a rapid stream, dragging all sorts of debris along. Carrying me towards a roaring cascade.
It doesn’t frighten me. I seek order in the current,
in the flow of time.
© 2016, July 4