Time has always been a concern of mine, maybe obsessively. I have written about it time-and-again. And time has never been so overwhelming as lately. Because of how heavy it has become, it has made me question a lot of things, things that before this point in my life, I had never questioned.

For you, how is time important? How important is for you to do what you have to do, what is your responsibility even when the world collapses around you? How do you keep up with time passing? Have you ever felt like the world is just out of order? That you are lingering at one corner when the rest of the population is walking or even running by? Have you ever seen yourself in the mirror and you did not recognise the person that it reflects? Have you ever stopped to consider if your shadow is actually your own or is it just laying around someone else’s body? What have you done, what has happened in your life to make you see things differently and not simply watch it pass through you? For me, it was my dad’s passing, three months ago. With him, a lot of me just faded away. The notion of life, from that point on, became a completely different reality. But my time is as real as you might have ever imagined it to be. I’m not the same person. Does this happen to you?

Have you ever felt like you are so distant from the life you had that you do not know what is life? Did you ever… Do you think that because I live on an island, as paradisiacal as it may be, it has shaped me to a certain type of behaviour? Has the sea around me — which, in fact is no sea but an ocean — made me more or less time-bound? Do you think that isolation would make you live in a different way? What way would that be? Mind you, it is not a forced isolated life the one I am living. I have the possibility to travel abroad, wherever I wish to and with almost no restrains. I can easily visit other places and be out of the geographical isolation that my island sets on me. However, I do not wish it. I like to live where I do. Nonetheless, it can and it has its own idiosyncrasies, no matter how magical or dreamy my island may be.

Then again, why haven’t I? What has been the use of my time? What is time? How relative is it? Is it the focus of relativeness or is it you? Are you not the one that changes? Are you not the one who is subjective? Are we not the ones who do things our way? How can it — time — be the relative term? How can I look at life in a no-time-at-all-form?

I hope I have lots of time to figure it out.

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