The time

If time is space. How does it look like? How could it be imagined? Is this space going by me or am I passing by? If it is moving, it is like watching a movie about your own life in cinema or sitting on the riverside and observing how the water flows and makes a pattern of ripples, gleaming river bottom, light and my reflection. What if I move through space? Am I going or runing? Or flying? Along a straight or smooth road? Maybe this road goes somewhere far away with decorations exposed by its sides. I am passing by, looking upon them and trying to see something or somebody. 
Maybe it is not a road, but a going up ladder. Maybe the ladder is going down or wandering like a snake and one could not see its beginning and end. Yes, I think it is a ladder. Its stairs are glassy. They are narrow and it is impossible to see something clearly on them. I am peering on them and wanting to see my reflection, but I see only of light and space reflection. My movements turn into a game of color patches and gloss. Every step the stairs are getting wider and in hope that soon I will be passing and seeing myself I move faster. No chance. Stairs are tapering away. Again I am fascinated by the beauty of glassy surface and already see some images in flicker color mosaic. It is so beautiful, that I forgot where I am for a number of stair.

"Ladder", Irina Merkulova,  pen and paper, 2016.