I could say when it started; I could feign confidence in this place, in the hour. The truth is, I could sail on the rolling tides of time and I'd still yet never move in a straight line. That's how it's always been - like a clock that lags a split second longer on even numbers, and pauses to scrutinize the odd. Like standing in a crowd, waving to a friend you don't remember meeting. Reading words that make no sense to anyone but their writer, or knowing those words are your own; my own. Words where meaning has been lost, a dying light I never got the chance to experience. One day, I will experience it.