Chronokinesis

Time travel is a constant, if often unconscious, process.  Awareness occasionally intrudes, like a face staring back through the glass, reminding us that we are not alone. Time is always with us.

One day, in the Jardin des Tuileries in Paris, I was walking past a statue when a figure emerged from behind the plinth. A man in eighteeenth century dress. He looked around as if in shock, brushed his topcoat down and wandered off into the crowd. I felt surprised, but also concerned, as he was clearly lost.

I sometimes wonder if I was the one lost, and that this was a gentle reminder.

Another time, in Istanbul, an old woman beckoned me over to her pavement stall. She pressed a small object into my palm, refusing my offer of cash. A nazar  or 'evil eye' charm, designed to protect the wearer. I left her something anyway, for luck, without asking why.

Was this another reminder?

I try to keep my eyes open these days, scouring streets and faces for further clues that existence is more than we presume: imagining that, behind the scenery, time and fate are waiting in ambush, to shock us into momentary awareness and leave us wondering.

Perhaps that is the nature of time travel.