Emerging from a mess of chewing and laughing and dreaming: The packaged up boxes sat on the table in the hall with the doors. The boxes were full of styrofoam and bubble wrap, instruction booklets and cardboard. That’s not all that was in them, I can’t forget about the clocks. When I think back, I don’t think I saw any of the clocks ticking, and if they were moving at all, it must have been very slow. There were all different kinds, no two alike, clocks shaped like towers, clocks shaped like boots, futuristic ones and old fashioned ones. I remember how I loved to pretend they were my own clocks, in my own house, on my own bedside table. I arrived at 5:07, stayed for hours, and left at 5:08. I decided that the hall with the doors was no good. I never went back; I like my time at a steady pace.
2001