Memory 563

Memory # 563

We are sitting at my kitchen table on the third floor in Calle Toledo 58. She's just arrived and the excitement of finally being together lingers between us. She is writing. They are just sketches, she would say. I put on some music. A beautiful and simple song that she doesn't know. We sit without talking until she asks: What song is this? Prelude for Time Feelers, I tell her.

A sudden shift. She stares at me in distress, then breaks into a smile. She turns her page to me so I can read it. Her last word was time feeler. She was writing about us.

One of the hardest things is to understand why you feel connected to some people, upon meeting them for the first time.
When I met her we were instantly lifelong friends. I realized that day at the kitchen table something I still hold to be true. We relate to people with who feel time like us.

I think of the Greek word Kairos, the subjective experience of time, as opposed to Chronos, clock time. Kairos is also an opening in time, when something meaningful happens. In ancient times: the interference of the gods. These days, I believe, we call it coincidence.