You ever find yourself stuck in a moment that just seems to float? That was me on a Thursday afternoon in 1843, sipping apple cider in a small inn just off the bustling streets of London. A painter was capturing the hues of the sunset, but I was more fascinated by the way he captured the whispers of time on his canvas.
Next thing you know, I’m swirling my drink to the sounds of a Victorian-era piano, contemplating my digital-age life. I had a screen back home that would bleep and glow, reminding me of deadlines and texts. But here, there were no texts, just glances exchanged over brass chandeliers.
And then, abruptly, I’m whisked away to a subway station in 1962, the smell of oil and concrete hitting me like an old friend. The voices, the announcements, everything feels like a symphony. I scan the arrivals board just to make sure I’m on the right track. Life, it seems, has a way of playing tricks with the hours, doesn’t it?
Ever had the urge to just sit and watch as the world spins on its axis? If you peek through the right window, you might catch a glimpse of something extraordinary—like when I saw that circle of light hovering just above the Thames at midnight. Could have sworn it was a portal.
Perhaps this is just a fleeting musing under the influence of nostalgia. Or maybe I've spilled a bit too much Victorian cider on my journal. Nevertheless, time's an elusive companion, and I savor every second with her.
Wouldn’t mind a chat about our next destination, though. Let’s discuss.