Being at a regular job (whatever that means anymore) has changed my attitudes about time. My experience of time, rather. It no longer feels like a slippery, elastic, uncontrollable material. 

And what of the seconds?

They will get here. In the past there was a sense that a certain hour would never arrive. That there could never be enough time but at the same time there is far too much of it.

Thinking of how quickly things can change. I opened a kitchen cabinet. Two bags of coffee and a large metal bowl came umbling out. Nothing made impact with my head or anything but the visual memory of suddenly being rained upon by unexpected objects felt like a metaphor for instant death as happens.

However innocent or safe a situation might seem it can turn fatal in a moment that would otherwise be just like any other.

Moments are all the same. Minutes, seconds, they have no character or presence that makes one different from the next.

Time is a big fat bore.