尋夢- all images by J
Even though neither human eyes nor careful cameras caught this fact, I saw in my mind a kidnapping that was almost perfect. A band of shadowless thieves - no, wait, to call them thieves would be to say that they are like our back alley bandits and neighbourhood cheats; this would be a mistake. Stealing time is nothing if not an art. These masters roam our cities with their fingers on our clocks, and with the air of poets and painters they put to work the dreamless gaps in our sleep.
You do not believe me? Just you wait and see.
Soon you will witness the disappearance of 3 and 4 o'clocls. And how sweetly the sleepers in bedrooms or offices will consent. You will discern how the languid 11 o'clock has melted away in thoughts of lunch or the weekend soon approaching. Observe how its yawning twin will seem to drift away on its own as you think about the things that could have been: the dress you should havebought and the bet you should have placed; the rejection withheld and the agreement foregone; the voice (sweet and how, of course) of the woman at the other end of the bar that you never got to hear, her naked shoulders, her slender neck... But you do not worry, because there is still tomorrow! Quietly you will revive these hopes at 7 o'clock, in your first thought of the day or in that final phone call to ask about dinner. All this will seem possible until - at last - 7o'clock too, gently - wistfully - evaporates...
But to this subtle art there is an exception.
The theft of 12 o'clock will be a scandalous, lamentable act. How the world will protest, the loudest the noon and midnight suns. It will bring tears to your eyes to hear the helpless howls of those who change between man and wolf. Then, no more will your shadow shrink to almost nothing around your feet. No more, too, the secret thrill of standing at that curious moment of what is today-yesterday-tomorrow. 12 o'clock, you will be dearly missed!
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