Lost time

‘This is the lost time, or rather timelessness lost, we’re not from here. We think back, now how was it? When was it we felt real, wasn’t it before the mist descended and we started seeing things in glimpses of time? When did it descend in the first place, was it our fault? It doesn’t matter, what matters is what it was like before, and where the path is that will take us back to the whole present. But that doesn’t matter either. Don’t you remember how the future loomed then? Before you got into trouble, before you picked up your story. You were in trouble before then, you just didn’t know it. You were blind the minute you stepped out of the womb. There may not have been a load of memories, there may not have been the tedium of return, but there was fear, there’s always fear, and time that was never truly inhabited. Don’t you remember the discomfort and the hugeness of things, of the future? And there’s something to be said for being lost and hoping against hope for a return to presence. Perhaps there are even wrong and right ways to lose yourself in absence, and wrong and right ways to think about presence. Perhaps you can only return, wrong word, or regain, wrong again, by getting more lost.’