The little man in my pocket

This is what time travel is. It’s looking at a person, and seeing them in the present and the past, concurrently. And that mode of transport only worked with those one had known a significant time.

For many of us, time seems to slip through our fingers. We rush around in furious activity but at the end of the day, what can we say we did? It’s all a blur. We’re swept along in the river of experience, immersed in what’s happening, at the mercy of every passing demand, whether from inside ourselves or from others.

En tout cas, après le lycée, je l’ai complètement oublié. Si facilement que j’ai trouvé ça étrange, d’ailleurs. J’avais du mal à comprendre ce qui, chez lui, m’avait attirée à ce point quand j’avais dix-sept ans. La vie est bizarre, tu ne trouves pas ? Les choses qui, à un moment donné, vous ont transporté, pour lesquelles vous étiez prêt à tout do

we each live in a present, a space for action. I no longer see you as an arrival point, far away from us on a line, or over the side of a waterfall. You, the future, are always imminent in my undecided present. We are at the center of time, and you, reading this, are also there. In both of our moments, we have so much to lose, but also so much to g