It seems that this week will go down in history as the one where I had one amazing conversation after the other. I just finished having a chat with an acquaintance of mine from high school that then went on to be the guy I would run into entirely serendipitously at random locations across the country every time that I returned to South Africa to visit my family. All of these things aside, he somehow remains in my mind as the man with the guitar and a song that must be sung. I guess Marcel Proust was he right when he said, “Time, which changes people, does not alter the image we have retained of them,” or as William Gibson puts it, “Time moves in one direction, memory in another.”
I am comforted by Aeschylus’ observation that time growing old teaches all things and that, as Seneca said, time heals what reason cannot.