Today I got lost in the clock room at the British Museum – I love this place, tracing back to when & how people first started measuring time. On the one hand, it makes me reconsider my own notions of time; how I spend it and how precious it is with each passing day. On the other hand, my mind races ahead to a place where everything is infinite and knows it’s not bound by the hour. The ultimate discrepancy: Time versus Infinity.
Reflection: The human appetite for time is endless; it’s the most precious commodity, but the sorrow of lost time becomes a permanent hole in the human heart.
Result: We’re consumed by the count – Dictated by the ticks, move with the tocks. Pause for the chimes, obsessed with the clocks…
But there are consequences to counting the moments when you measure time with a clock. How very human of us to do so; to mark the minutes, but not use them wisely. To measure the days length instead of focusing on its miracle. I suppose that’s why I like my clocks broken…
But… this all fades behind a shadow I suppose. I’m romanticising about a concept which may as well be considered mythical; to stop counting time and live it instead, that notion is dead (like long handwritten letters and mix tapes on cassettes)
The night is a harbour for my mental frolicking and tonight, the sands of time played the hero of the hour – but in real time, my watch is telling me I should sleep, for my alarm is due to go off soon; the day ahead brings fourth reality, and not even I with my broken clock can escape the scheduled living of the 21st century. We are all the white rabbit falling into a hole, but our descend is never destined to end in Wonderland….
It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day. Here we go again…
*Tick Tock Said The Clock* * *My Mad Hatters Rant*
Diary of a Deluded Heart
Written: April 1st 2015
Published: July 1st 2016