Time

Time by its nature remains hostile to every life. We come into this world, we live in it and pass away, and all upon its severity. I do not know why people obsessively strive to stop it or at least shift themselves to places and events that are out of the measure of “here and now”, while “there and then” becomes the currency of disobedient reason.

Time does not yield to human laws, but people somehow must adjust to its obscurity. It does not care about love as much as it does not care about hate. It gives its charms to the rich and the poor, the young and the old, women and men. You may say that you own it, but indeed you have no means of using it, for it only runs forward. Thus, all our past in relation to now, and even more so to tomorrow, is merely a fuming apparition floating among our dreams chased away by the morning breeze. It doesn’t fall for your happiness, unhappiness, devotion, despise nor dreams and expectations. It simply flows. It floats and passes, leaving men astonished by its pace.