Image of the full moon one August

Bill Pearse

There is no time like never. In fact, never is the absence of time, its imagined opposite. And so right now, this is a time that would never happen: I’m on the beach in the middle of the night in my underwear leaned against a log waiting for the moon to break through the clouds. It’s been taking forever, another form of time defined by its absence, by being on the brink of happening but taking too long.

When it does come out it’s the reflection of the moon on the ocean that’s more dazzling than the moon itself. It breaks upon the surface of the water like glittering jewels. And hangs in the air suspended like a ghost. And everything is covered in its silvery glow.

It could be like a print negative, that’s what never is like: the image of what you were doing in reverse. I’m never…

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