a second.
the passage of time is a funny thing. it is both, at once, fleeting and mesmerizing. and i say mesmerizing because the things that take your breath away often stretch the dimensions of time to a pace that almost seems sacred and fragile. like the fluttering wings of a butterfly. or the hands of a clock going into the final minute of the hour. precious moments like that; mesmerizing. you hold your breath even though you can almost predict what the next moment will be like.
maybe we hold our breaths in a secret hope that our predictions would not come true; that we’ll be allowed into a world of magic and miracles -the ardent hope that we are special enough to witness and experience such things, while the rest of the world marches on to the pace of proper time.
