Moment, he tried to catch the moment and it slipped, hunting for the time when the ‘we’ was ‘us’ before the ‘you’ and ‘I.’ He tried to catch a moment and it shifted into ‘that time.’ It’s either that time moved or we did and time was never there, and everything is a collection of moments, but he worked hard to try to catch the moment: He had said, “when my time stops, will you share our moments? Or, will you retrace them, tell how us was all you with a fraction of I, a seagull who begged for scraps of your intellect?” She didn’t fancy his imagery. As their Empire collapsed, colonialists giving up their hunt to dominate the Other, he made lists of what to remember, top twenty do you remember lists, their years summarized in number six, that time we watched Friends for two days. He remembers how she liked to count how many hours they had watched, counting to keep busy and forget the now, things that need to be done in this moment, how are we doing in this moment, because lists, set in the past, forget that this moment exists. His list of ten things that I have chosen to remember about us defied what others said, before the split to you and I, gossip about their moments that at best lead to a guess, columnists penning obituaries of people they never knew, Robin Williams Dead at 63. When, tomorrow, he will try to think about yesterday, he’ll remember that episode of Friends when Joey buys Monica a watch, only to find out it’s made of chocolate, and how, later, he gets caught, in a train-station, by her step-mother’s blind fiancé, eating it.
word by Liam Lachance
colour by François Malingrëy