Take her back to the days when she was able to count the seconds

Back to the days when time moved in sync with her and her wandering feet

Searching for the familiar feeling of being lost, being new

Waiting patiently for her to catch up as she turned over yet another page of her “unputdownable” book

Meticulously calculating how many minutes it took to read that page

If it took me 20 minutes to read the last 30 pages then…how long until I reach the end?

But was that the important question?

O little beautifully inquisitive mind

Thirsting for answers, but more so the questions

An analytical bibliophile

She was inquisitve, careful, and precise

And time waited for her.

But it doesn’t remember her anymore.


“I like this place and willingly could waste my time in it”



One thought on “Timed

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