On evenings when no one is looking, time takes a break from our human chaos. It slips behind shadows, bathes in moonlight to rid itself of all our rage and sorrow. So slow is the cleaning. Our misery, like mud. Our dastardly doings, caked dirt between the toes. Times like these, time barely wants to give us the time of day. But, like us, it has nowhere to go but forward. So time slips out from behind shadows and back into our lives. A little cleaner, and moving forward more quickly, as if to outrun us.