Time is the strangest of all things. Sometimes it creeps by, and sometimes it rushes so fast that you can barely get a hold of it. Five minutes can feel like a flicker of a moment, a blink of the eye, while simultaneously thirty seconds feel like eternity. Time really is the strangest of things. Meant to structure our lives, to put our lives in pigeonholes, it does not let itself be niched. It creeps and rushes. And yet the clock keeps reassuringly ticking without slowing down, without jumping or stopping. Tick-tock, tick-tock. Calm, steady and unaware of time’s real arbitrariness.

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