Because there’s not enough time. Because there’s too much time, sometimes, pressing against our heads. Shakespeare said, “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.” Each mortal wears a time crown. Sometimes we reject this crest. Squander it. Writers strive to be responsible with time. To freeze, revise, control it. To steal it back from whoever the fucking time lords are. Pens turn stories into stars. Words’ lights glimmering, each night, after we’re gone. Moved on. To where the ticktock of clocks is meaningless. But for now? Now is all we’ve got. We write in praise of right now. Grateful for time, for lifetimes, to say thank you, thank you, thank you.
Photo by Etienne Girardet on Unsplash
