Turning time around ... but the volume is too low. There is so much love on mute. There is longing that is held in escrows of mistrust. There is time deposited into a free falling abyss. The longer it's there the further it becomes. Love is only fleeting when you are immovably still. Love is fast. So fast. Lovers are runners. Sprinting together. To each other. Too fast to doubt. Too haste to stop. They are fighting past and future and the edge of the present. They are master thieves of destiny and greater things. They are ambitiously content in each other. Together they are suspended in their gather. They are the performance and the crowd. They are the people and the state. They are the gods and their judgement. They just... are, every time. Let there be time for love or love in time.