I know that time is linear. One second follows another. They don’t bunch up and tumble down all at once, although that is how love feels to me. They (the seconds) don’t lose sight of each other around the bend, although that is how being sick feels to me. One second kicks the next in the pants and they take a step and then another. Linear.
The relationship of one generation to another though, brings the straight line in to question. A friend told me of her mother’s dream of needing to buy her daughter undershirts. My friend was taken to that moment for herself her mother and her own daughter, all at once. Simple and beautiful story and moving because of the connection through time like connected dots in a fourth dimension. Dreams move in this quantum space: here/not here now/not now. Two places at once. Time starts to feel like the tide coming in these moments–all of it rises to meet me in a rush and then recedes away, dissolving in the sand the way the waves do. When I was little I thought that the receding water just melted into the sand instead of being drawn back out to sea. In these all/now/past/present moments it feels like the time melts in to me this way from then and now and now to come.
Nikon D700, SB-600 mounted in Photoflex medium softbox (-2 stops) with gold inserts and grid, triggered by on camera flash