Koyaanisqatsi by Godfrey Reggio

How much we resemble a swamp of bugs when we see ourselves moving a few times faster. When we move along in a sped up space the purposeful individuals blend in the crowd. You-- the person who worries about your job, wonders what's for dinner, hurries for an errand and fancies the stranger passed by-- can no longer be picked out amidst the rapid movements of the mass. In slow motion people appear to be solemn souls, struggling through their lives. In fast motion you don’t see people, but a comical, busy-bee collectivism. Something's moving us along; something is making waves out of us. This something is society. When you compress your day's doings into a few minutes, you'll start to see a pattern: you'd look less like a person living your life; more like a bug carrying out the will of the collective commons.

It's curious how one gets a different sense of being by simply manipulating the frame rate, or one's perception of time.

scratch

there's no such thing as linear time. there's no track to life. you can skip a beat, hype it up, drag it down, take a break, split in two and jump around. your mind is an hour glass. tilt your head and it'll drip a different rhythm. nod your head and travel in time. dance to the beat and you'll be immortal, forever in the moment. sync-up is unnecessary-- the world is a million metronomes of different times. dj your own sound. when it gets smooth enough you'll hear other beats matching up.

“Everything can happen. Everything is possible and probable. Time and space do not exist. On a flimsy framework of reality, the imagination spins, weaving new patterns.

~ A Dream Play, August Strindberg