I know most people use their phones to tell time, but there's something very romantic and beautiful about a timepiece.
One of the gravestones in the cemetery near the earliest church has an anchor on it and an hourglass, and the words In Hope. In Hope. Why did they put that above a dead person? Was it the corpse hoping, or those still alive?
The early '20s were like the waist of an hourglass. Lots of things were hurtling toward it and squeezing through it and then hurtling out the other side.
The more sand has escaped from the hourglass of our life, the clearer we should see through it.
The hour-hand of life.
And what is Life? - An hour-glass on the run
I wish I had the power to flip my reality upside down like an hourglass, and that life wasn't a finite affair, but rather a perpetually recurring passage through a hole in time.
The more sand that has escaped from the hourglass of our life, the clearer we should see through it.
Tis visible silence, still as the hour-glass.
Dude, the place is filling up," I say. "It feels like we're living in the bottom half of an hourglass." Like somehow we're running out of time.
