On the Threshold of Winter

"The quiet transition from autumn to winter is not a bad time at all. It's a time for protecting and securing things and for making sure you've got in as many supplies as you can. It's nice to gather together everything you possess as close to you as possible, to store up your warmth and your thoughts and burrow yourself into a deep hole inside, a core of safety where you can defend what is important and precious and your very own. Then the cold and the storms and the darkness can do their worst. They can grope their way up the walls looking for a way in, but they won't find one, everything is shut, and you sit inside, laughing in your warmth and your solitude, for you have had foresight."

Moominvalley in November, by Tove Jansson

I have seen many winters.... 

Time has human measurements. Or maybe it doesn't, maybe it is the circular movement of the stars. Maybe there is such a thing as objective time, hidden in the silent black abysses of the universe.
But what we live in is a human time, time that moves upwards and downwards as our bodies grow and decline. Our time is tailored upon the measurements of our human soul and body.

I am starting to feel older. I remember that once I used to mock my older friends when they were sharing the feeling of getting older. Now I feel that way. I remember many events. I remember my life changing many times. I have seen things that happen repeatedly in my life. That should mean something, but its sense is still hidden from my heart. I am able to remember myself as another, younger person.
All this gives me a new perspective and makes my present experience relative. I know that I will change again, it is not upon me to know how am I going to change, or what is my way. But I know that I won't be the same, and that then, I will regard my present self as young and naive. A young mother of two little kids and no clear idea of her nearest future.
Those two little kids which spring out of me and grow like little green blades of grass, tender and full of life, life that is in its very beginning, a thread that is just starting to unfold.
I see the friends of my youth getting tired and disillusioned and I know that the same is happening also to me, even if I believe to be young and to look so. 

Time is tailored to our limbs, it fits us perfectly. Because we are the time. //


Зимите се редят една след друга.Времето е поръбено според линиите на собственото ми тяло, втъкано в косите и пръстите ми. Няма друго време извън мен, аз съм времето.
Аз съм времето, което минава, аз съм млада и аз остарявам.