It was a time that seemed unfathomable to our city. A time so long past that only the greatest and most enduring of its wonders remained, preserved through the ages.
History is linear. First their was the age of the Precursors. Then the silver age of the Sages. Next came the Desolation and the rise of the Age of Mar. Lastly, our age, the age of wastes.
Time is linear, but we are not. While time rushes forwards, streaming onwards, our movement is a dance through the stream, pre determined and unreadable, but not always linear.
Certainly the strange dance that fate has led me on is hardly linear.
So, time is a stream, we are dancers, leaving trails of movement through the waters of time and sometimes...
Sometimes we just can't explain things. Sometimes it doesn't make sense. Trees that I have yet to plant remember me doing so. Children I have never met treat me with familiarity that goes into contempt.
And the only I know for certain is that the eco that pulses through the world is the same eco that was, is and will be. The only constant in creation.
I hope things become easier in my future. In the past. In the unfathomable perfection of the age of innocence that is so long past that it is mere days from being my future.
This is giving me a headache.