Everything comes to an end. And with the end comes a new beginning. We all know that. But I don’t have the beginnings on my mind, I’m in a philosophical mood, so I’m preoccupied with endings. And rightly so. A few things happened to me lately that focused me on how time passes on its own terms and brings all things to an end.

I just ate my last peach of this year. It was actually way past the last….and it set my mood for excogitation.  This last peach had the taste of ending. It wasn’t even sweet and juicy and it came from Spain. It didn’t explode in my mouth with the exuberance of summer and suntan lotion. It didn’t take me back to my childhood and my mother, making peach jam and peach chutney. Instead, I mentally experienced the gloomy saying goodbyes after a visit, the reluctant packing up after a glorious holiday, the unsettling sadness of a dry christmas tree.

I didn’t have enough peaches this summer. I should’ve enjoyed it to the full when it was in abundance. This last peach made me once again realize the impact of time on our lives. That we only get one shot at living.


This is a clock my mother left me. I don’t like it, it is plain ugly. But I love it. It carries a beautiful message. Almost a warning. It chimes every 30 minutes and at 12 you litterally have to stop talking to give the clock twelve chimes. Before every chime, there is  just the tiniest of warning that it is about to erupt in jubilation; a soft click, so soft you have to be close enough to hear it, you have to almost pay attention. That is just how time is. There are warnings everywhere around us that time is not waiting for us, not giving a second chance, not caring how busy or idle we are. The click is there, we have to pay attention, listen to the 12 chimes; use the silence to think.


Today I’m sad because things end. But I’m also thankful for time. Because time is kind in its cruelty, it is consistent, it doesn’t linger, it can’t be bribed. Because 12 chimes force me to keep quiet and listen and think. About today and about tomorrow. And tomorrow, it forces me to be grateful for new beginnings. Tomorrow it will give me quince instead of peaches.

Both sketches in WC and pen in moleskine