By Matt Brown
Time is something we manage, waste, kill and save. I speak as though it belongs to me and yields to my will, but time marches on, deaf to my demands, dragging me behind. Even when I stay on my feet, I am only keeping pace, like a child holding the bridle of a racehorse. It feels like time is managing, wasting and killing me. I’m the one in need of saving. And that’s why I’m looking forward to Advent.