A snake, a snake!
It's Peanut Butter Jelly Time!
Someone set us up the bomb
HOW DO YOU LIKE IT?
"We the willing, led by the
are doing the impossible for the ungrateful.
We have done so much for so long with so little,
we are now qualified to do anything with nothing."
14 May 1905
There is a place where time stand still. Raindrops hang motionless in the
air. Pendulums of clocks float mid-swing. Dogs raise their muzzles in
silent howls. Pedestrians are frozen on the dusty streets, their legs
cocked as if held by strings. The armoas of dates, mangoes, coriander,
cumin are suspended in space.
As a traveler approaches this place from any direction, he moves more and
more slowly. His heartbeats grow farther apart, his breathing slackens,
his temperature drops, his thoughts diminish, until he reaches dead center
and stops. For this is the center of time. From this place, time travels
outward in concentric circles - at rest in the center, slowly picking up
speed at greater diameters.
Who would make the pilgrimage to the center of time? Parents with
children, and lovers.
And so, at the place where time stands still, one sees parents clutching
their children, in a frozen embrace that will never let go. The beautiful
young daughter with blue eyes and blond hair will never stop smiling the
smile she smiles now, will never lose the soft pink glow on her cheeks,
will never grow wrinkled or tired, will never get injured, will never
unlearn what her parents have taught her, will never think thoughts her
parents don't know, will never know evil, will never tell her parents she
does nto love them, will never leave her room with a view of the ocean,
will never stop touching her parents as she does now.
And at the place where time stands still, one sees lovers kissing in the
shadows of buildings, in a frozen embrace that will never let go. The
loved one will never take his arms from where they are now, will never
give back the bracelet of memories, will never journey far from his lover,
will never place himself in danger in self-sacrifice, will never fail to
show his love, will never become jealous, will never fall in love with
someone else, will never lose the passion of this instant in time.
One must consider that these statues are illuminated by only the most
feeble red light, for light is diminished to almost nothing at the center
of time, its vibrations slowed to echoes in vast canyons, its intensity
reduced to the faint glow of fireflies.
Those not quite at dead center do indeed move, but at the pace of
glaciers. A brush of the hair might take a year, a kiss might take a
thousand. While a smile is returned, seasons pass in the outer world.
While a child is hugged, bridges rise. While a good-bye is said, cities
crumble and are forgotten.
And those who return to the outer world...Children grow rapidly, forget
the centuries-long embrace from their parents, which to them lasted but
seconds. Children become adults, live far away from their parents, live in
their own houses, learn ways of their own, suffer pain, grow old. Children
curse their parents for trying to hold onto them forever, curse time for
their own wrinkled skin and hoarse voices. These now old children also
want to stop time, but at another time. They want to freeze their own
children at the center of time.
Lovers who return find their friends are all gone. After all, lifetimes
have passed. They move in a world they do not recognize. Lovers who return
still embrace in the shadows of buildings, but now their embraces seem
empty and alone. Soon they forget the centuries-long promises, which to
them lasted only seconds. They become jealous even among strangers, say
hateful things to eachother, lose passion, drift apart, grow old and alone
in a world they do not know.
Some say it is best to not go near the center of time. Life is a vessel of
sadness, but it is noble to live life, and without time there is no life.
Others disagree. They would rather have an eternity of contentment, even
if that eternity were fixed and frozen, like a butterfly mounted in a