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Clockwatchers

Whoooosh.

She’s Tick. I’m Tock. And that’s the sound of us passing you by. Another moment slipping away, another fading memory. Sands through the hourglass, as some of you like to say. More hours you’ll never see again, and will only appreciate when they’re gone. Zoooom. Bye.

But we’ll still be here. Always, as far as I can tell. To be honest, I envy you in many ways. There’s a mystery to your journey that mine doesn’t afford. I’ve seen it all, which has a certain glory and mystique, but no one is immune to time, even us. Passion fades. Interest flags. You just get tired.

But to materialize on a timeline and then vanish without knowing when must be a true adventure. To endure is boring. Better to be the firework than the sun. You would likely disagree, particularly on your deathbed, but we’ve watched it happen again and again, and I know what I say is correct. The flash in the pan is where it’s at.

Run along now. Tick and Tock are chasing you again.

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