Where Did The Time Go?

 It’s 8:00 PM 

It’s a warm and humid Sunday evening, with me finding myself in front of a 711, clacking away my keys to the sound of young people chatting around me. There are two other coffee shops beside it, and going against my nature, even if both had alfresco areas, I went with the convenience store.

There is a camera inside my bag, a full frame iteration with a 40mm prime lens for street and the possible portrait. 

I have Bocchi the Rock OST streaming from an iPad Pro, I’m connected to the net via my iPhone. 

I got myself a can of some Nescafe coffee variant, and look up periodically as I try to find words that would stick, ideas to refine, a thought to go by, or go with. Then graffiti on the wall to my left woke me up. Well a part of me woke up I guess.

The narrative starts pretty much the same for me. A place, a solitary human, a sprinkling (sometimes a sea) of others. A writing implement, a source of music. Then this realization that along with the passage of time, I am a part of this space I am at, and yet far removed from it. 

It’s odd that I look around and know I have at least three decades to those I see around me. I’m still trying to process that. It doesn’t make sense. Maybe that’s why Daniel finally went to Armand. Well he didn’t really; he got buried in the avalanche of Armand’s eternal-ness and could not help but wither under the breadth of it along with Armand’s relentless pursuit.