another decade? how about millenia..
i would go back to the 17th century because it's one of my favourite times and because that is when the countess beszterczey lived
i can go back and forth. i tested this out last night and actually, the night before as well.
i would bring back patrick, my friend, who died october 27th, 2009 after a short but brave battle with cancer. may e lights show him e way into e futur e


**— a process that calls itself, or calls a similar process—may be a fundamental aspect of what it means to be human. in the human mind, ~ is actually much more complex than the notion of returning to the same place over and over. we put phrases within phrases because we hold thoughts in memory; thus we have language and a sense of a past self. we are aware that we are thinking about what someone else is thinking; on this awareness we build a sense of self and the ability to be deceptive or to act on shared belief. ~ gives us the ability to mentally travel in time.


we were quiet that day. deep in the fall, light was fading faster and it rained often. we decided on a late afternoon dispatch. the roads shimmered, their wet surface soaking up our shadows as we approached the van. "ready, angel?" "i am. got a message this afternoon, i know what i want to say. but before we start, i want you all to listen to me." he slid the door shut and laid his wide curious eyes on me. you could cut silence with a knife. "nimit, make sure our friends stay the course with us. then lose them for good. this is our last drive. i want them crushed... dog, it's a gloomy sunday. spin accordingly. and you..." i held out my hand "put this over my eyes, would you?" no one said a word as i turned away and let him put on the blindfold.  then i heard the engine roar and we were off. i talked about october. falls and walls. the new era we entered. adulthood... dog was inside my mind. he heard every word and translated it into music. and i saw everything with my hands. my fingers did their job flawlessly. blocks of time oozed out of them as they moved buttons and levers for me. i just had to follow. shortly before the crash, i paused. then felt our van swerve, and after a series of short breaks, i felt the engine pulling strong as nimit accelerated and took off, leaving behind faint sounds of honking coming from multiple directions. we were on our way out of the city, i was certain of it. i also knew i had only a couple of minutes left. "dog,"i heard myself say, "this is our going-away-and-hit-the-road  song. let's play it for ourselves, this one last time. our friends, i'm sure, will excuse us... it has been our pleasure, every single time, to talk to you. but before i say our final goodbyes,and send you off on your own pursuits and drives, let me share this message with you i got from a friend. he wrote it in the summer. i dug it up from my archives, because ii thought you all might want to hear it, so listen up: on august 11th patrick said 'i miss our city and you folks a lot. yea, it's a blessing when you can live, and you just have to have a happy mind!' he died three days ago. i just found out, today, and i have to talk because i sent him a letter but now he is never going to get it and i am such an idiot for not sending it earlier. but i'm going to keep a happy mind. and you do the same. and be safe out there and live because it's a blessing...' it was then i felt his hand on my shoulder and i stopped talking. 'goodbye.' the van soon turned onto a dirt road, we parked and he grabbed my hand and slid the door open with one fluid impulse. the air felt cool as he helped me outside. gentle drizzle and daring winds hit my face but i followed confidently as he dragged me towards what smelt like water. then i felt something cold and metallic slip under the soft fabric of the blindfold and a cut released my eyes to vision again. he guided my gaze towards the moon. it had a halo in the colors of a cold rainbow around it. it was then i started crying.

ya sólo me abismo en las palabras. han pasado siglos y sigues ahí sola en manos del enemigo. ya nunca podré regresar. sólo me queda soñar que te veo y te escapas. [...] la nieve borras tus huellas.

a la mañana siguente no hablaron de la noche. estaban más unidos, silenciosamente. sz parecía haber dejado sus reparos atrás. no vieron ningún rastros de los ruidos. [...] ella sabe que algo raro está ocurriendo, pero no sabe qué. - no quiero morirme, w...  lo abraza y llora en su hombro. - ¿que dices, tonta?  ¿como te vas a morir?  en silencio avanzan. la mano de sz está fría. a la mañana la carpa huele a pinos. la tarde se pone roja como si fuera a amanecer.

así hablan mientras desde las sombras tejo y destejo el tiempo entre el frío y las flores que se acrecan:


i am drowning in these words. centuries have passed and you still continue, alone, in the hands of your enemies. there is no return. i just have to stop dreaming that i see you and you escape. [...] snow covers your footsteps.

the next morning they did not speak of the night. they were, in silence, more united. sz seemed to have left behind her previous troubles. they did not see any traces of the noises. [...] she knew that something unique had happened but she did not know what. - i don't want to die, she said as they embraced and she cried on his shoulders. - what are you saying, silly? how would you die? they reached further in silence. sz's hands were cold. in the morning, the tent was covered in pine needles [imprecise/ unfinished]  evening was setting in with hues of red, as if it was dawn approaching.

hence they speake in between shadows, blowing off time between the cold and flowers-to-bloom: [imprecise/ unifinished... almost about to give up on this one]

... but i won't. look: this is what i have waved, so far. i know you are listening and it is good to know. i will not give up, and you will see. if you come back, tomorrow, yesterday, there is a new step i have taken. in your world, snow has retreated into the mountains and blue tigers dream our dreams. but 'don't worry,' you say. 'i still always see you in the rain.'

**— a process that calls itself, or calls a similar process—may be a fundamental aspect of what it means to be human. in the human mind, ~ is actually much more complex than the notion of returning to the same place over and over. we put phrases within phrases because we hold thoughts in memory; thus we have language and a sense of a past self. we are aware that we are thinking about what someone else is thinking; on this awareness we build a sense of self and the ability to be deceptive or to act on shared belief. ~ gives us the ability to mentally travel in time.