“I wasted time, and now doth time waste me;For now hath time made me his numbering clock:My thoughts are minutes; and with sighs they jarTheir watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch,Whereto my finger, like a dial’s point,Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.Now sir, the sound that tells what hour it isAre clamorous groans, which strike upon my heart,Which is the bell: so sighs and tears and groansShow minutes, times, and hours”
Richard II ACT V SCENE V
Speaking of time… I think it’s rather peculiar how quickly life can change, one minute it’s all sorted, the next, nothing is sorted – well except for the big picture, but that’s big picture – I’d like to know what the little picture is, how does my little piece of the puzzle fit in? Does it fit at all or is this some new fandangled puzzle where all the pieces get together at the end of a given time and vote you off the puzzle?
Maybe I’ve been in the wrong puzzle box, maybe my puzzle was sold at a garrage sale years ago and I missed my ride! Maybe my puzzle is one of those that ends up at the back of the cupboard and never sees the light of day again because nobody wants to do a puzzle they can’t complete.
Something in me would like to think I’m the missing piece to some great puzzle, but somehow I doubt it. I think Im the piece that keeps trying to fit and does for a while, until someone realises that the edges don’t quite meet, and while it looked good for a while, and was useful to help get the dimensions of the puzzle, it’s time to be once taken out and placed on the side of the table in the hope that a gap will appear that it will fit into just nicely thanks you!
But what woud I know? I’m hopeless at analogies.
I’m also really tired – I can’t believe I just quoted Shakespeare!