But that I know love is begun by time;

Time sits on his throne. He rests his long pointed hands, jointed like the hands of a clock, on his legs. His face round, his nose, like a sundial, eyes like little stars – they move in his head like constellations. When he opens his mouth, galaxies fall out.

His tasks keep him very busy – beginning love takes quite a bit of his time, as it were – there is so much love in the world, really. Every time a child is born, a love affair begins between parent and child and so many are born every minute, it is no wonder that occasionally, Time misses one out and a child is born who cannot love or a parent does not get their jolt of love at the birth. Time usually tries to make up for his mistake by giving them all love elsewhere later – but he knows it is not as good.

Then, too, he is charged with bringing friends together, and lovers. Sometimes he even touches a shopkeeper and her customer, though that is not the strongest dose.
Pets, cities, co-workers, strangers with expressions that move other strangers – it is a massive job for Time to accomplish – there is no end of love that he begins. Even if it’s just the love of coffee in the morning.


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