mánudagur, janúar 14, 2008

á staðnum

Non-place, non-time. In transit in an anonymous coffee house chain I find I have no idea what timezone I am in. I stare at the readout on my cellphone, the one that reflects a self-updating internal clock, and try to work the absurdly simple math back and forth. As a result, I know what time it is on the spot, but I am not sure where that spot it. The relative temporal position of other people whose spatial location I am sure of I cannot figure.

I struggle with this for---twenty minutes? In any case until I am called for boarding and jet off into places even less place-like.

Engin ummæli:

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