where the time has gone.

“All I know is that I’m in the passenger seat while Time, cigar between teeth, wind in hair, drives along with the radio turned up as I scratch away at a GPS that keeps repeating RECALCULATING, RECALCULATING, RECALCULATING, non-stop. “You’ll kill us!” I yell as well speed past birthdays and weddings, milestones and memories. Time turns to me and gives me a big toothy grin. We don’t stop — we just keep on going, and how! We are in a hurry. 

Time slows down and comes to a stop. Something awful has happened. Someone I know has died. Time waits impatiently by the side of the road, leaning against the bonnet of the car, smoking away on its cigar, while I sit in the dirt and cry. Time gives me the eye. “That’s enough,” it says. “We have somewhere to be.”

I stand up and straighten myself, then I’m back in the passenger seat staring out the window, as Time picks up speed again and the world rushes past in a big blur of light and colour and sound… I watch the years come and go with my face pressed against the window, feeling both trapped and exhilarated by our speed.”

-Rowena Grant-Frost for Frankie Mag {issue 58}


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