Sense, time

“Hola, cómo estás?”, a voice, Shepard tone, low and old, gently pulled me out of a lucid daydream. I realized, then I have been lost in thoughts, staring at the stained glass windows, ceiling, sides, and behind. Colored lights, splashed everywhere: Jesus on the cross, Virgin Mary, and those saints I have no idea of.

How long has it been? My sense of time, also lost, literally, along with my phone, last Saturday in Barcelona. The only places, nowadays, with working clocks are train stations, and churches, it seems. But that is not why I am here, not for the clock, no need.

Interesting how quickly one’s mind learns to tell passage of time by observing shadows, to use sunset as the reference point, a quarter to eighteen, here in Madrid.

Imprecise, of course, but imprecision is the luxury I can afford right now.

Surprising how more often I lost sense of time, figuratively too. With no distractions from technology. I found myself lost in the view of dotted city lights, starry sky, blocks in grid, top of Barcelona hill. Lost in the sound of kids playing, street musicians singing, and pigeons cooing differently at night. Lost in the smell of freshly baked croissants and morning brew coffee.

Lost in these places, I would not have been, since Google map would not have recommended, like this church, right here.

“I am okay, I mean, I am well, thank you”, I responded, a few seconds later, drifting back to reality. Standing in front of me, a priest, dressed in all white. Everyone else, on their knees, now turned their head towards us.

“I will pray for you”, he said.

“But I am, um, um, not Catholic, the closest religion is maybe Buddhism.” I muttered, not sure if I am speaking to him or to myself.

“And that is beautiful.”

He walked away, lights seemed to follow.