Still swiftly now

Already Thursday. I know by the clock and calendar that the week, the month, the evening are advancing, but I can neither catch nor describe their ceaseless movement. It is without measure, a constant, magnificent flight neither to nor from anywhere.
Meanwhile. I exchange electronic fragments with friends and acquaintances on four continents. I walk in the rain up the rue Boissy d’Anglas, come upon a passageway whose name I’ve forgotten but that I frequented more than two decades ago. Two lovers embrace under an overhang. My business is with a photographer, a specialist in passport photos done the American Way. A question of necessity: my document is expiring. After all these years.
Again, time, swiftly, passes, by. In the endless stillness of now.