"Not Defined By Time..."

One of the weirdest/coolest things of living intensely your life is the fact that at some point you lose the sense of time.

Ever since I moved to Conquista I started having a life totally different from the closed-up one I ended up having in Salvador; I've been going out and meeting my friends and people in a daily basis and I've come to face a feature of this wild life I'm carrying: I, most of the time, lose track of time.

Sometimes when we get to the late night, feels like that what we did in the afternoon was days ago. My trip to the Chapada for example, it feels like an age ago, but it's been only a week; that twisted notion of time didn't happen in Lençóis [the Chapada], though. No matter how high or drunk I was I knew perfectly the time of everything, even not having clocks and watches to tell the hour we were.

They say here that when time starts to fly like this it's an Apocalypse sign. Of course I don't believe that, but if it were true I'd be glad to be living so intensely; but I cannot deny the pinch of nostalgia for the time when a day had indeed 24 hours and not only 4.

[Song: Hung Up - Madonna.]