I remember, maybe a couple of years ago, reading about astronomers who, for decades, had been studying a faraway star system which they believed did not exist. It had, they thought, expanded and exploded millions of years ago, before human beings even existed on Earth. Because of the time light takes to travel, what they were watching was something that, in fact, did not exist.
I was travelling on an Overground train in London yesterday.
Sometimes, on trains, you see shambolic, madly, badly-dressed men or women who, you might think, could be dangerous. Usually, though, they are overly-polite because they are begging for money.
Yesterday, I was sitting in a London Overground train, reading the Metro newspaper.
A man sat down on the seat opposite me.
He was maybe in his early thirties, dark-haired, blue-eyed, wearing a very neat blue business suit and red tie with a white shirt, his face overly clean-cut, looking like he had just washed and scrubbed and was going to a job interview for a very straight, mainstream office job. Or standing for Parliament.
“It was not my fault,” he said to me.
“Was it not?” I asked.
“No,” he said and paused slightly, then added, “and it was raining. I never liked football at school.”
“No?” I asked.
“No,” he repeated. “It was not my fault.” He paused. “And it was raining.”
“Ah,” I said.
“And I never liked playing football at school,” he said.
I nodded my head and smiled at him. He avoided any eye contact with me.
We travelled four more stations, in silence.
I carried on reading the Metro newspaper. He looked at the floor, not moving.
Then he got up quickly at the fourth station and left without saying anything.
He went away to live the rest of his life and I continued with mine.
Just a moment in time.
A molecule in infinity.