chronologia (2008)

Time is the duration of everything. It's measure is the essential dimension. The 'moment' is the interval between now and then and then again. Time is a thought, and we are clocks whose heart beats are the tick and tock. Time is vacant. It is both the tortoise and the hare: depending on where, it is languid and impatient. Each moment is the inception of some newer moment yet to occur or else a witless realisation of what happened prior. Yet there is no past except what lasts in the flickering of our memory's doubt. There is no future except in the anticipation of the salvation of some few devout. Now is a contradiction of fact and fiction. Genesis erupts into a cornucopian extravagance. The secret key to the arcane life - all things imaginable and unimaginable - is in the brevity of now, a timeless flash in perpetual continuum. In 'now' language fails. We are confined within the mind's capacity, our incomprehension beyond three dimensions. Our illusions and delusions and ideals float on waves of time like concentric circles in still water. Time recedes in ripples from the moment of splash or flash and on the foreheads of aging or prematurely-successful men, caving to time's command. The ripples widen into waves of stillness when time becomes nothing. And if there is new stillness, this stillness will also be disturbed. Time only exists where there is action. The clock hand never sits still and if it does some ripple reminds it where it should be. If you ask me the time is I won't be able to tell you. I'll be lying once I've told you. I'll have been lied to. The system we've created deceives us. Clocks lie. 'Now' is empty.