As happens sometimes, a moment settled and hovered and remained for much more than a moment. And sound stopped and movement stopped for much, much more than a moment.
When you let your mind go blank,” he said, “or when you stop talking for a long time, something happens. Time becomes different. It goes away. It doesn’t come back until you start to say something.
He walked out into the gray light and stood and he saw for a brief moment the absolute truth of the world. The cold relentless circling of an intestate earth. Darkness implacable. The blind dogs of the sun in their running. The crushing black vacuum of the universe. And somewhere two hunted animals trembling like ground-foxes in their cover. Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it.
Maybe you can afford to wait. Maybe for you there’s a tomorrow. Maybe for you there’s one thousand tomorrows, or three thousand, or ten, so much time you can bathe in it, roll around it, let it slide like coins through you fingers. So much time you can waste it. But for some of us there’s only today. And the truth is, you never really know.
Contrary to Literature Creep's mascot Little Bernard and Grown-Up Bernard, while I do need spectacles, I am only a slick Romeo when reading from the male perspective.
Hi, I'm Kat.
I creep on writers. I hope you'll join me. For all of your literary quandaries or just to drop off suggestions, ask is open.