Cry.Black.Tears

When time flows by like flower petals drifting in the wind

Posted on: February 27, 2008

I’ve always imagined time to be a gust of wind which keeps blowing. We are just standing still in the wind with our eyes closed and enjoying the wind whipping our hair back. Or perhaps wind is like a stream of crystal clear, ankle-deep water, and we are standing on the smooth pebbles, feeling the trickle of water flow pass between our toes.

I’ve never had the habit of remembering what I did. I suppose that is a wastage of time, just letting it flow past, blow past. How many galleons or m3 of water/air have went by you?

Boss gave me 1 stack of 2007 bills and invoices from another company for me to key in today. As I was typing the dates from Jan to Dec, I can’t help but try to recall what I’ve been doing at that same date, while somewhere else, someone doing business. I even took out my phone to see what I’ve jotted down in my calendar. Sadly, I’ve deleted most of the events and I can only gauge like “oh! from Jan to Feb I was preparing for HC, March is HC and holidays. Ah 19 March is Block Test!” (strangely I didn’t delete that from my phone), so on and so forth.

It made me think how little I can remember of my own life. I can’t even recall accurately those happy moments/sad moments/should-be-memorable moments. How sad is that?

And the world is filled with so many people, each doing something at the same time. It feels like each person is a dimension, and there are billions of dimensions in this world, each parallel to one another. I am reminded of the parallel worlds as described in His Dark Materials Trilogy by Philip Pullman, where the worlds overlap but do not touch. Just like Lyra’s and Will’s Oxford. The same Oxford but slightly different.

Isn’t that the case now? We overlap for we live in the same world, yet we might as well be living in different worlds with different people but similar structures. It’s like, I won’t know that at this day, this time last yr during pai xi, someone is in his office waiting for business.

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Day by Day, Time Slips Away

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Boulevard of Broken Dreams