Who knows where time goes? In this short window where I see the world, it’s ever vanishing. Full of work, full of chores, full of . . . whatever we do to cover over its vanishing. Then one day, today, I stop and think of time lost. A girl riding a bicycle or clambering over the boulders along the firth or sledding down Water Tower Hill or reading late into the night. Falling into time, into reflections of a past.