Still here now always

What was the ‘planetary’ time, the time of the day you tried to understand when you first came out to the countryside, when you started this journal? Didn’t you see it in the indifferent sea, the fields, the slow drifts of clouds, the way Rookie sat on the windowsill for hours with his eyes closed? Didn’t time seem monstrously long? A time of changing seasons, stars, the orbits of moons. Nothing to do with you, yet hanging over you like a cloud at dusk. The dreaded boredom of the day… strange inversion of time. And alongside it the depthless dispersals of everyday life under the cloud of capital: assaults on time you were happy to sign up to, as if you could escape so easily… And now the hard-to-reach moment, still here now always, waiting at the heart of time to hint at eternity.


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