Last night I observed that Aesop now snores in his sleep. He never used to. And I thought, Aesop is aging. Not a puppy anymore. The fact made me feel sad, just as when Henry grew old and developed health issues. All things come into being, and all things pass away. In this sense, time is a reality and not a fiction. The clocks and calendars feature numbers and names assigned by people, but even if you break the watch, time still ticks away and things generate and decay… I listened in the half light as my dog rattled in a sound sleep, he oblivious to me and what I was thinking. I was alone in being awake and melancholy, pensive, and concerned. I mused on mortality: would I be afraid when my time came? Finally I managed a light slumber for a few hours. There’s no substitute for life.