Time.

What is time really? Some say that it is the fabric of our existence. It is the lifeblood of the world. Without the ever present hour ticking off the clock, how would we know where to be, what to do? Meetings, schedules, appointments, eat, wake-up and sleep. We are governed by the clock on the wall.  Was there ever an instant in our history, and era or century, where the only arms that mattered were not the ones on the clock, but those of the lover in which you lay, the arms of a lover in which you lay for as long as you want, as long as you need to. No tick, no tock, no alarms, no rush, no hurry.

A cross media piece that I designed during a challenging time of my life.

The amusing thing with time is that although we live by it, cannot function without it, there is never enough of it. It is cursed, yelled at and sobbed over. A loved one passes away, and we blame ourselves, we blame the tick and the tock, for time we did not spend with that, that is no longer around, for time that was stolen from us. Yet this hatred is ill placed. We allow ourselves to be ruled by this unseen force, this monarch in our lives. An hour for lunch, 15 minutes for tea, 4 hours with the family. Are these really the constraints that we have placed on ourselves? Are these really the shackles that are forced upon us by those in power, by the lives we lead? Time. A fickle thing. Never enough. Sometimes too much. Often misplaced. Tick and tock. Rush and push. This thing called time. It is our much loved enemy. Our constant accomplice. Time. What a bitch.