Possibly the group’s most widely travelled writer, a globe-trotting jetsetter who will be in Barcelona this January, Selwyn has written a piece which looks back into his past and anticipates the year and all Time ahead. His novel, “Going up Camborne Hill: The Serpent Ring” is available from Amazon, where you’ll also find Somewhere Else Writers “Off the Wall”, an anthology of stories and poems featuring QR code links to audio of the writers reading their work.
You can read Selwyn’s “Time Drills its Way” at cirenscene.com/ local-news/
You can also find more about other SEW members’ writing and links to our published works on somewhere-else-writers.org
2025 was a productive and successful year for Somewhere Else Writers’ group and we look forward to an even better 2026.
Time Drills Its Way
Time beats a drum, its tempo increasing with age. Along the way, we bookmark life’s landmarks, our triumphs and our trials, and memories often seem as if they were only yesterday. The progress of time tugs at our sleeve, loosening our hold on the moment, and encourages us to focus on the horizon. When we were young, the future was the imperative, the prize awaited around the next turn. Behind was another existence, where tasks born of ambition had been accomplished, and Life’s failures were soothed in a balm of irrelevance.
Too soon, we find the beat of time loses its certainty. A snare wire is orchestrated into its drummed tattoo, introducing a hesitant paradiddle… Our doubts cast a shadow upon Time’s continued progress.
The solar drill of the Sun through the heavens sustains the beat of each passing year, as the planets sweep out their helical path in pursuit. As new memories are formed, our past and its memories dim with each twist of the diamond-tipped, solar bit. We age in the swarf of the Sun’s rays.
Our imperatives shift…
Our stored memories become more important to us than the events on the calendar yet to be turned. We struggle to refresh and colourise our past. Time becomes about what was and what is… _We neglect the when in our lives. Beyond the horizon, ‘when’ masks a sinister face, a reverse side that has remained unseen by the lucky toss of life’s coin.
Sooner or later, our time, in its familiar form, will reunite with its eternal companion, Space… like a lost glove returned to the hand from which it slipped.
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