Time origami

Time seems to slow down and fold in on itself, no need for rush and surge and passion, a slow gentle progression of weakness and awareness, a slow shutting down of will and way...
Today Chiaro di Luna would not eat her breakfast of bok choy and pumpkin with bonito flakes, brown rice and chicken breast, not even the smallest bite...and even that most delightful of smelly delights, cheese, the real French deal, not your processed stuff, was unable to whet her palate. Nobu and Claire were dancing in the wings jostling to get in at the unexpected feast, but I've put it away for supper.
A friend brought by some freshly caught raw deer meat from the mountains: wonder of wonders, she wobbled to the door to greet her, and has swallowed a few tiny slivers of red meat while resting on the kitchen mat, surrounded by the inane bustle of the other setters. Somehow around her time has slowed, the universe is softer, gentler, blurry at the horizon which is folded in to greet her. Such a miracle, such strength is needed to be close to a passing, a relentless pressure of foreboding and prescience behind the ears, a dull cloud hanging over the brain...loving and weeping and loving, and slowly, stillness creeps in.