Somewhere over the Rainbow
Stories by Marjolein
And I don’t think she’s at peace with us being romantically over, that I’ve found another love … had found …
I lean back on the hard, wooden chairs of the library. My eyes tingle from the constant reading of fine print in dusty books. Surely there must be something to be found somewhere about why time travel is really possible, and how it works when you try to change something in the past. So many writers have written about time travel, so many philosophers have contemplated it, even scientists have looked into it. There must be at least a grain of truth in it, right? I also run into all kinds of conspiracy theories in my research: that the Twin Towers fell by the FBI, that JFK was killed by his own security, that Princess Di was trapped by the royal family, that the earth is actually flat. Have I now become someone who also sees some credibility in that? I close another book that again brings nothing new. The dust swirls from the slamming and makes me sneeze.