Janie blinks and leans against the wall, just in case. But it’s no one’s dream. It’s just the end of some things. And the beginning of others.

Thus will we deal with life, my little help-meet. Will we not, eh? What though it blink at us like an owl that is blinded by the sun, we will yet force it to smile.

The river is now. This moment. This breath between us. The space between your heartbeats. The moment before you blink. The instant a thought flashes through your mind. It is everything that is around us. Life. Energy. Flowing, endlessly flowing, carrying you from then…to now…to tomorrow. Listen: you can hear the music of it. Of the passage of time.

I thought that the world was a vast system of signs, a conversation between giant beings. My actions, the cricket’s saw, the star’s blink, were nothing but pauses and syllables, scattered phrases from that dialogue. What word could it be, of which I was only a syllable? Who speaks the word? To whom is it spoken?

Anything you ever make that matters takes a long time. Some artists never see their work in front of an audience, so for them 15 years is a blink of an eye. I am nothing but grateful.

In this world we’ve created
Where this place that we live
in a blink of an eye the darkness slips in
Love lights the world
Unites the love that’s for eternity.