We have thousands of days ahead of us like glittering sparks in the sky; we have hours and minutes stacked up beyond counting. Don’t we? 80 years is 28,920 days and on the order of half a million hours; perhaps our time is not as unlimited as I thought. Plus there’s invisible hand of fate attached to our strings, pulling and winding us up, to say nothing of the work of Clotho, Lachesis and … uh, the other one (Atropos?). Guy on the train – regular commuter – just told me his niece’s friend just passed away in an auto accident at sixteen and just exploring a driver’s license. What does the rest of the time hold for us? Can we expect it writ large in the stars?