Tempo, scivolato via
"Is it time uninterrupted? Only the present comprehended? Are our thoughts nothing but passing trains, no stops, devoid of dimension, whizzing by massive posters with repeating images? Catching a fragment from a window seat, yet another fragment from the next identical frame?
If I write in the present yet digress, is that still real time? Real time, I reasoned, cannot be divided into sections like numbers on the face of a clock. If I write about the past as I simultaneously dwell in the present, am I still in real time?
Perhaps there is no past or future, only the perpetual present that contains this trinity of memory. I looked out into the street and noticed the light changing. Perhaps the sun had slipped behind a cloud. Perhaps time had slipped away".
Il tempo che scorre, con il suo bagaglio di ricordi e il suo orizzonte di progetti. Il sole che scivola dietro a una nuvola per poi trapassare l'orizzonte ancora una volta. "Nothing but passing trains", e qualche volta, specialmente se siamo distratti, e' proprio cosi'.
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