Eternal Summer

Here, one is inclined to think that time only pretends to move; that the ever-changing faces of the many clocks that lie languishing on walls and upon too many wooden desks only serve to remind clockface-gazers of their continued existence. But day does turn into night, and sunrays eventually give way to moonbeams.

So, time must move, must it not? Or has time been confused with life - for how could time possibly be anything but animate when it does not impart a sense of urgency?

Here, life may race forwards but time stands still. As still as the black-and-white men in old and yellowed photographs that line the bottom of a dying man's drawer. Time is still.

Can you hear it?

Photo credits: Sache and Murray at harappa.com