One time, I use to think that my home will remain the same. And the walls in which I grew, wouldn't fall with time.
For the young, time does no exists. The joy they feel in the protective arms of their parents is more real than the monsters under the bed.
However, when children are grown, they stop building the same structure over and over again. And their legos take on complex roles.
As for adults, what is our relationship with time? We're the ship in which it sails. It's only a matter of numbers before our captain stops giving orders.
And a ship without a leader, is doomed to end.
