I’m fascinated with Time. This thing that rules over our world and limits our life. It’s always a question whether it is relative or not.
Time is such a big word for me. To me, it encompasses, identity, memory, consciousness, god-likeness, collective consciousness, universal purpose, and even universal truth. It’s an enemy to us humans because it entraps us into this limited entity in both time and space, but it’s also a friend because it is the medium onto which ideas grow. “Only Time can tell.” It’s a living mystery that conceals or unveils the truth.
Time is also an especially fascinating subject when we relate it to memory and identity. The memories of the past are just remnants of what we assume happened. Our perceptions of ourselves in the past are skewed. The stories we tell ourselves speak more about who we want to be than who we actually are. So we perpetually walk on this ever-changing sense of identity and this often makes us feeling fussy.
So in this series, again, I wrote few things in fiction about time. Many of these were actually written years ago, yet in my head, they are very much about Time.