I spied with my eye as I hover-revolved - occasionally perching - around the throes of mental battle ensuing an excessive sluice of the written as those individuals rendezvoused amidst the city lights underneath a sole, sparkling star. The resounding stillness of the night was left to settle, only haphazardly punctuated by the constant barking of a distant dog.
Black, I imagined.
The rumblings of modern machinery were curiously absent. It could possibly be that its ubiquity has deigned or bowed its head to what is seemingly - or presumably - the oblivious.
No, not oblivion. Surely not.
It was as if time obligingly stood still, defying its very own principle of impatient indifference, forsaking the minute hand - threatening it that if it were to budge even a nanomiliminute, it would be immediately discharged of its duties and the second hand be immediately promoted to play both (very prosaic, imo) roles.
The rumblings of modern machinery were curiously absent. It could possibly be that its ubiquity has deigned or bowed its head to what is seemingly - or presumably - the oblivious.
No, not oblivion. Surely not.
It was as if time obligingly stood still, defying its very own principle of impatient indifference, forsaking the minute hand - threatening it that if it were to budge even a nanomiliminute, it would be immediately discharged of its duties and the second hand be immediately promoted to play both (very prosaic, imo) roles.
But we all know that the minute hand knew better.
Well well, shame on you Father Time.
