i can't feel the clock moving, but i knew i wanted to get in between the minutes, the seconds, the nanoseconds; that eye of the hurricane that is complete calm, between engagements, room to breath. i watch the clock as if i were expecting the four horseman of the apocalypse to emerge on the horizon, galloping towards me, enveloped in death, and plague. in the world of time there is no refuge except no-time. it is not unlike standing in doorjambs during an earthquake, or bunkers during tornadoes, or bomb shelters during nuclear holocausts.
where do you go to stay safe? in the world of time, the cycle that repeats itself over and over but is never the same is like a current. when the pace of time is slow you notice everything; when it turns to a churning white torrent squeezing through narrow channels, increasing velocity...it is enough for one to even try to hold something in sight for more than a second. if you blink, you may miss what you are looking for.
and so to try to nail a wedge in time in that exact moment of transition when the clock moves from 1:12 to 1:13, you cannot blink. you cannot move. the only sounds are one's breathing, and the steady, quip of blood beeting between one's temples. the bridegroom comes in the night; the virgins go out to meet him, with enough oil to stand watch. the infinitesimally small space of time between 1:12 and 1:13 finally collapses in on itself, as the change happens before my eyes. it is like trying to catch a fly between one's fingers.