Once upon a time, there was time and the time sat around us and under us and carried us like a magic carpet ride to nowhere. Once we were becoming and leaving and arriving and falling away and rising up all at once. There was a point, a dot, an infinitesimal test of a test of releasing the knowing of the narrative of anything. The music was ignored. The rhythms were ignored. Because nature’s pulse was cemented outside and everyone clung to the clock hoping that the hands would gift some version of reality they could cling to. The swirl of energy was distracting and disorientating. When all was said and done, nothing at all was done. The days and nights of looking for someplace to stand fell away and they all needed to look at the opening of a new structure. Trusting time was a betrayal. Trusting a narrative was a betrayal. Expecting the drive-by window to open and hand out the answer was not the answer.
