I don't want time. I want timelessness.

Emin's phrase is all over the news, setting off my jumping bugs. I am told, this is a love letter. This time thing, it is a love thing.

But the thing about love, for me, is that it throws me into timelessness, not time.

I want that. I don't want time. Time is defined. It has a start and a stop. When I am in it, I am counting; clock watching. I am enclosed, bound from this hour to that hour. It will surely end. I was indifferent, or bored, or I wanted it to end.

That was my time with you.

But when I am in love, then I leap off time; this moment, it was a moment, but it breaks free of its ticking weight. It is timeless; it does not stop. This collision, a cherished moment, a coming together, we can last beyond clocks and the tick tock of their hands.

You can keep your time. Clocks, I can wind them up, pack them away, fold them down, because we do not stop. What survives of us, is love.