That time box

In the BART elevator at Embarcadero station the guy in there with me got confused when we stopped at the MUNI level. “It’s MUNI” I said helpfully. “You probably want the one higher up to get to the street.”

“Oh! Yeah! Right! You know it’s partly the old age and partly that I’m really, really high a lot of the time!” He looked out at the MUNI platform, pleased with life.

I chortled appreciatively.

“It’s funny how everything really far back is so clear. Everything now, I forget! But 59 years back is clear as day! I’m old, but I’m also a stoner!” he said.

“Yeah it really does start to all become one thing, as I get older I really feel like it’s time travel and time is all in one big moment that all exists at once!”

He side eyed me.

“I’m not even high! Ahahaha, I just talk like that! When it seems like people are open to it.”

We then agreed memory is time travel. The elevator is very slow, so there’s plenty of time to chat. I did not mention the TARDIS. We emerged from the elevator doors as boldly as if we were all the Doctors and Companions.

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