I was staring at my watch. It was just one of those day of mine when i dont really feel like doing anything but thinking. So thats what i did. i just sat there staring at this... thing and thought about it. It was nothing, really. Just pins, springs, screws and wheels, and on a slightly smaller scale it was just a few ounces of glass, plastic and metal. It was small. But some how in the back of my head it felt so... grand. But why? What does this feeling meam? What does it mean?
What does it mean...Wait. What does it mean? What does this grand and insignificant thing mean. What does it stand for? What does it represent?
Its an instrument used to measure, yeah?
Measure what?
The passing of time.
Time? But when you think about it time doesnt exist. Its just one other thing humans would like to think they invented in order to control things. Like names.
Thats just stupid. Of course time exists. How do you explain...
Thats the intention behind inventing the concept of time. Enitially, it was to measure the interval between the sun's rising and its setting.
But isnt it a flawed concept?
...
...
How so? It does just what it was intended to do... doesnt it?
Yes. i suppose. But when you look at it the way i ma right now you'll see that its the only obsolete tool of ours that we have yet to toss aside, the way we do everything else.
Stop beeting around the sodding bush and get to the point!
Its doesnt measure possability.
How the hell would you do that in the first?
Its impossible you idiot. There are way to many to measure. If you were to think about it i bit further you would realize that its imposible to measure something as infinite as chance.
Hes right. Look at it this way. From this very point in time forword there are an infinite amount of possibilities.
Yeah, and branching off from each and every one of them is another infinite amount of possibilities.
And from each of those another infinite number.
And so on and so forth.
So the concept of time can only possibly be expected to measure the passing of possibilities that we experience by chance.
Love is all about whistles.
