Friends

“You’re staring off into space again.”

“Sorry. Just thinking.”

“Never a good sign.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay. What were you thinking about?”

“It’s silly.”

“So? Tell me anyway.”

“I was just wondering if winter was the end of the year, or the beginning?”

“The end contains the beginning.”

“Is that deep?”

“I don’t know, is it? But it is true.”

“So it’s both?”

“Sure. We use lines to represent history and events, but that ignores all the circle imagery we use in keeping track of time. Sun dials. Analogue clocks. The rotation of the earth. The orbit around the sun. And the cycle of the seasons. Time flows, but not straight ahead. It always takes us back to the beginning.”

“I can’t decide if I should be impressed by that, or just irritated by your tendency to take all the fun out of idle mind wandering.”

“As you like.”

“So have we met before? Destined – or doomed, perhaps – to become friends over and over again?”

“Why not?”

“Hmm… There are worse fates.”

“Indeed.”

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