Les Biches [meaning "The Does"]
by French artist Marie Laurencin (1883 - 1956)
A few years back, in answer to a quiz question, I observed that for whatever reason -- the new millennium; global warming -- the world seems to be spinning faster with every passing year.
"What do you know now that you wish you'd known when you were younger? That "TIME FLIES" is not a mere cliche; that "A year is but a day" applies not only to the mind of God but to us humans as well! How can it be that events from ten, fifteen years ago seem like just the other day? Is the world spinning faster and faster each year? Somehow I thought it would slow down, but no! "
Over the summer, my friend Vickie sent me a postcard from Povence, posing a similar question about the passing passage of time: "Do the days go fast as one's time grows shorter? Unfair -- so much to see, do, learn, enjoy! It's been a hot summer, and too, too fast."
As literary coincidence would have it, a day or so after Vickie's postcard, yet another wise friend -- Nancy from Washington State -- sent me a book review, clipped from the The Seattle Times. In this article, poet Richard Wakefield discusses Donna Krolik Hollenberg's biography of Denise Levertov: A Poet's Revolution. Included is Levertov's sage observation that "the discrepantly aging body and mind affect one's sense of time."
Hmmmm. Just as Vickie and I suspected.