We All Have Appointments With

Physicists Now Say There Is No Such Thing As Time: Everything Co-exists. Chronology Is Entirely Artificial And Essentially Determined By Emotion. Contiguity Suggests Layers Of Things, The Past And Present Somehow Coalescing Or Co-existing.

No One Can Explain Exactly What Happens Within Us When The Doors Behind Which Our Childhood Terrors Lurk Are Flung Open.

This Then, I Thought, As I Looked Round About Me, Is The Representation Of History. It Requires A Falsification Of Perspective. We, The Survivors, See Everything From Above, See Everything At Once, And Still We Do Not Know How It Was.

At The Most We Gaze At It In Wonder, A Kind Of Wonder Which In Itself Is A Form Of Dawning Horror, For Somehow We Know By Instinct That Outsize Buildings Cast The Shadow Of Their Own Destruction Before Them, And Are Designed From The First With An Eye To Their Later Existence As Ruins.

It Seems To Me Then As If All The Moments Of Our Life Occupy The Same Space, As If Future Events Already Existed And Were Only Waiting For Us To Find Our Way To Them At Last, Just As When We Have Accepted An Invitation We Duly Arrive In A Certain House At A Given Time.