It’s Friday afternoon, one of those odd days between the 25th and the 31st of December, 1985. School´s out, my allowance money is in my jeans pocket, and I take myself and my mostly empty backpack on a mission. I ride the B&W bus and about a half-hour later I arrive at the 6th Avenue strip in Cali, Colombia.
Time is dangerously easy to manipulate and at the same time really hard to manage. Our human species also appears to be the only one that insists on measuring it - quite arbitrarily at that. We try to make time match our own speed and desperately hold on to hope when we think it is running out. Even Cher wished she could turn back time, and quite a few surgeries later, well… she sort of did just that, didn't she?