Time?

More about Time?

Time? No. This place is limbo wearing a cheap wristwatch that stopped a million years ago.

The sun hangs overhead like it got drunk and forgot to fall. One circle trapped inside another, nimbus inside corona, a glowing cauldron where every old sinner ever lit a cigarette is still waiting for the match to burn down. It doesn’t rise. It doesn’t set. It just stares.

Below it the North Sea swallows the light and spits it back acid gray. That poison climbs the cliffs, slips through the alleys, crawls over the cobblestones until the whole street turns the color of an old bruise.

There’s a girl halfway through a single step. Maybe she’s been walking forever. Maybe she’ll never finish crossing the street. Her dress catches that sickly green light.

The village clings to the mountainside like a bad habit. Every doorway keeps its mouth shut. Every window remembers something it won’t confess. Even the stones seem too tired to crumble.

And here I am, leaning into the painting like a bum warming his hands over a barrel fire that gives off no heat. I’m frozen with her. Frozen with the sea. Frozen with that impossible sun.

Time packed its suitcase and skipped town a long time ago.

Nothing moves. Not the water. Not the shadows. Not the wind. Hell, not even my thoughts. My mind has quit making excuses and settled into the silence like an old dog under a broken piano.

Maybe this is what forever really looks like—not angels or devils, not clocks or calendars. Just one endless note ringing through a cracked universe, where every second has collapsed into the same tired heartbeat.

I’m not waiting for tomorrow anymore.

I’m just standing here inside the only moment that ever was.