14:14

Had to look twice. It didn’t seem right, in some undefined way. 14:14? Come again? How so? A bit of a non-time, wouldn’t you agree? Patently after lunch, but well before afternoon tea, falling somewhere in a temporal chasm, a time-well of non-entity, of un-being. No, that’s not quite right, too final, and this hour gives an entirely contrary impression: ‘pending’ personified, as it were; a hiatus preceding an ellipsis. A moment, suspended without promise … without agenda. A blank to be filled – rather like a pre-Michelangelo ceiling.

For a moment, 14:14 had all that import, and yet none at all. A beguiling, enchanted time; disembodied even. Surreal, evanescent and ethereal, pregnant with mystery and deferred fulfillment.

14:24; tempus fugit. Now the day is getting somewhere. Another coffee?