-A few weeks ago in Vistancia (sector five)-
He remembers in no particular order:
- a cloudy morning;
- someone's face buried under a broken cement platform;
-Cougars filling up the school and surrounding them;
-The sound of the explosion came to a terrible echo as if it were the anguished cry of God;
- Bathwater long gone cold behind a locked door;
This isn't something he actually saw, but what you end up remembering isn't always what you witnessed.
We live in a time- it holds us and moulds us- but he never felt he understood it well. And he isn't thinking about or talking about how it bends and doubles back, or may exist elsewhere in parallel versions. No, he means ordinary, everyday time, which clocks and watches assure us passes regularly: tick-tock, click-clock.