it is about time (& kronos)
I have been thinking about time—it's the force that changes us. There are many changes we're proud of and happy about, but also changes we regret, perhaps becoming someone we almost don't recognize anymore.
Time is present when we make decisions. It's there for the things we love and the things we hate.
I recently released my second single, "KRONOS," where I wrote and sang about time and the work I'm doing on myself.
Time, like Cronus, not only devours its own children—it destroys creation. It's the father, the genitor, and still the one who kills. It gives life and takes it away, just as time does to us.
Two masks: one old, hard, and wise; another young, open, and foolish. One slow, one fast. One shadow, one light. The only thing between them is time.
If we think about it, space can always be integrated. We'll always be on the same planet, in the same universe, under the same sun. But time—it seems everyone has their own.
I still struggle to understand from NASA and space exploration documentaries how someone who goes to space doesn't age as much as a person who stays on Earth. How my family in Brazil sees a different moment of the sun and moon than I do living in Germany.
Time has become the way we connect—how long it takes to visit someone, if our Google Calendar is scheduled with someone's name, or if we have similar ages and thus more in common.
It's all about timing: time to eat, to get a job, to have a child, to die, to stop working, to speak, to listen to a podcast at double speed, to go or stay. My body seems to have its own time, but so does my mind, and so does culture. We're all in our own timing.
The truth is, some go earlier, some take their time. Some will check how much time they have left, while others don't even grasp the concept of tomorrow yet.
As time changes us, we know we're being consumed by it. We're reborn again, another version, in this space-time—just to be consumed again. Even the things we leave behind—music, audio, words—will vanish and be eaten as well. As Machado de Assis, a Brazilian author, wrote in his book "Dom Casmurro"—a chapter that calls to the worms as they eat the papers with the stories.
Time ignores us, yet we feed it. We adore it. It rules our lives, preparing us for our end, always and every day. We measure, control, analyze, document, compare, we remember
—at least sometimes, we remember.
