Pause

There’s an interruption. A suspension. Things aren’t allowed to complete themselves. To, resolve. So that what’s happening’s not happening … Nothing’s going to finish. Nothing’s going to come to term.

This is slurred time. Drawled time. This is time that, like, revolves around its absence. This is stranded time. This is nothing’s-happening time. You can’t narrate it. Can’t tell its story.

 

Slowing. Blurring. Nothing moves forward. Nothing gains purchase.

How much of our lives are like this? Isn’t the truth of our lives just like this?

This nothing time. This is nothing’s-happening time. This is time going neither forward not backward time. This pause …