Time wings

I would like to overtly see where my time flies to, how does it fly, its velocity, its intensity.
In a fascinating way I feel the time wings absorb my ideas, my arguments in favour of my ideas. In a ridiculous way I would like someone to paint me, not physically, but psychologically…to paint my inner part, without all my disguises (my “mascaras”), without all the walls. It would be like a short story, like an unpleasant, but simultaneously pleasant sensation…it would be like when we try to see the sun in the middle of several grey clouds walking in the sky, but it does not show up.
The painting I am referring to would be as truthful as possible. But who would be able of using a paintbrush to do it? Probably no one….only myself….it is supposed we know ourselves, thus I will have to be the painter…I already am…but I do not use a paintbrush…I use a pen…
Even so…someday I will try to do it with a paintbrush.


Egomet