Life is weird. One thing to the next and whatever. Good to be writing. Soon I’ll be on a beach at night and my bed or hammock will be up from the beach not too far. I don’t know where or when in time, but there it is, the epicentre of that sphere. This isn’t a mental plan; I see it, I’m catching the ripples from that sphere of time as they ripple through my brain.
But really? It’s not just the wine? Is it even remotely possible that I just started seeing time-space as it actually is, without any theoretical physics training except that time when I was twenty and tree-planting with an electrical engineering student who got me to read Hawking’s A Brief History of Time so we could talk about it on a lake-beach at night drinking wine forgetting for a moment the black-fly-filled-hell that waited for us in the morning? Could it be? I don’t know; but still, I see the ripples from that sphere of time, that beach at night, and I’m writing around a fire.