It is funny how time works, but it works sometimes like this: I'm in Chicago sitting at the airport (at this moment writing this) it is about 6:30 PM (February 14, 2006), five people are sitting by me—I don't' know them, but they are in my time, just as well, as I'm in their time; as Operh is, at this moment in my time (somewhere, wherever she is); as Elvis was at one time, in my time, but no longer is, and I am, and he is not. But Elvis was before I was (was he not? Yes of course). And then I become and he was not, or no more.

So what can we say about all of this. One of the five-people took off, just up and went, up and left. So I will never know if he will remain in my time or not (when I am dead and he is dead, and if we meet each other, we can say, we came from the same time zone, if we have good memories, we'll remember each other, or he will remember me, I got a bad memory; if we meet that is). We all think it is our time and our time only, when this is not true, the same again: it belongs to all of us. We all get only a portion of it (some more some less, not much, but enough, we were put here for a few reasons, one was to die), and we are

all assigned to a process, to spend it, spend our time, like dollars or euros, soles and yen; if you are alert you will know it is called 'time passing,' and pass us, it will, it does.

Thus, we are assigned to spend it around each other. How we deal with it matters, even though we want to cut off its legs so it cannot walk any further, get away from us, but it does (that is why we get face lifts); it matters even though we want more of it to belong to us, me you, but it is out time, and again I must say, short at best, long if you are adventurous. If it was only your time, you would be on earth alone, so when I say hello to you, it is only because we were assigned to the same time zone, it is as simple as that.

#1209 2/14/06 [written at the Chicago Airport, while my wife was sleeping]

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