When I haven’t been panicked by the rising Christian terrorism in our country my thoughts have turned to time. At the risk of sounding like a spinoff in the Marvel Universe, time seems to have a whole new shape for me. No longer a straight line, sometimes it’s dots and dashes: self-contained moments with a finite ending, or brief bursts of joy. Other times, it’s a circle, a never-ending loop of monotony or despair, like a gridlocked highway you can’t reach the exit ramp on.
The Way We Were
The Way We Were
The Way We Were
When I haven’t been panicked by the rising Christian terrorism in our country my thoughts have turned to time. At the risk of sounding like a spinoff in the Marvel Universe, time seems to have a whole new shape for me. No longer a straight line, sometimes it’s dots and dashes: self-contained moments with a finite ending, or brief bursts of joy. Other times, it’s a circle, a never-ending loop of monotony or despair, like a gridlocked highway you can’t reach the exit ramp on.