This is going to sound like bad poetry because I am not sure how best to articulate it. But I’ll try.
Once in a while, the mind takes hold of something and slows down everything around it — the clock ticking, the Earth’s revolutions, the breaths coming from your own nostrils — as if to crystallize and distill and separate out the destination, faint pinprick as it may be, from the rest of the ordinary ebbs and flows of life.
I wonder if the brain worked this way before movies or if this is something my brain has begun to do because of movies. It is theatrical in nature and dramatic at heart and it perplexes me, the ways in which the organism functioned before the ways in which we function now. What if I would have been better in and at another time?