I’ve always had a pretty bad perception of time. My friends can all attest to this handicap, having been victims of the many consequences of my tardiness. The older I get, the more philosophical I’ve become regarding time. On the surface, it seems that I just can’t get anywhere on time because I simply take too much of it to get any one task accomplished. But, what is time anyway? These days it seems to escape me even quicker than before.
Days have become mere sighs passing through the portal of a greater unknown macrocosm. On days where I’m running late and have to rummage through my archive for a good excuse – to get me off the hook for being late to what-have-you event, I feel wholeheartedly that I am a slave to a manmade invention.
Immanuel Kant believed that time didn’t really exist but was an exigency of our knowledge. In order for us to understand anything, our sensations had to exist conditionally within space and time. The idea that time is subjective makes the most sense to me. I have my own mind and my own perception, so why shouldn’t time be different for all of us. Your 9am is not mine.
Clearly, I’m not a realist when it comes to time. I don’t believe we move through it in a uniform fashion, nor that time travel is possible. But, I do understand one universal idiom: Time is Money. Over the next few weeks I will be completing a project, inspired by Time, which will take up two adjacent walls of my apartment. I hope to share my progress with you and that you will appreciate the time it will take for me to bring a little yellow into your lives.
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