All the time in the World


Open, the glowing red light of the word drew me into a small store of no real size or, what I thought at the time, significance. The sign huge for its entrance, the entrance larger for its building, but somehow it all seemed to fit.

Despite my misgivings at the proportions of what seemed to be another little shop filled with things forgotten, but once cherished I entered. I entered to find a space filled from top to bottom, left to right, diagonal to diagonal, with watches, clocks, everything you could imagine one would need to keep time. Some working some long broken, but all once used to keep time.

The little shop keeper behind a glass display paying me no mind, but simultaneously peering through me. I courteously gave him a smile and a nod, he returned with nothing.

I begin to explore all of the small time keeping pieces aligned in neat little rows and grouped by kind. I notice that it is the exception for one to be working, and when it is, it never tells what time I believe it to be.

The shop keeper asks “would I like to see one” and I say “no just looking”. He tells me that some of the watches are special once belonging to aristocrats and some just ordinary folk, but all once cherished. He says they seem to have stopped when they became forgotten, like they did not want to let go of the past, the time when they were loved.

It is around this time that I begin to feel like time for me has stopped. It begins to feel like the watch stotictoc1re is no longer as small as I once felt, but smaller. I pier into a large clock with all its cogs, sprockets, and chimes exposed. Its like I am being shown just how time works, or at least once worked.

The feeling of needing to get back to my time is coursing through me. The feeling growing stronger as time, or the lack there of, goes on. The shop keeper asks me “would like to see any of the watches”? I take a look at one of the pocket watches and say “what about that one, the one with the black face”. The shop keeper says, “well that one has not worked in a long time and is unfix-able”. Somehow I take this as a sign that none of these watches are for me, that they will never tell me my time, but only the time that once was. So I thank the shop keeper for letting me look around and turn a tight circle and walk through the glowing red sign.

I have a certain affinity for watches, especially those kept in your pocket. To me a pocket watch is something only you know you have. In a time of wrist watches a pocket watch is a hidden gem. You may say it is such a hassle having to pull it out to see the time, I say it makes the adventure that much more special . You tend to worry about time less and allow yourself to experience the moment. If you do not wind it, time sees to exist. Without winding you become stuck in a infinite loop no now, before, after, or ever.

    • Ka$ha (your beloved sister!)
    • March 11th, 2009

    This is really insightful.

  1. No trackbacks yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: