We are pressed against our seats and pinned there as sound folds before us and cracks. Memories are dislodged and we try to scoop up what we can. The present is the line that is drawn between what could have been and what actually took place. Now is a reference and we keep it in our pockets to consult, but the more it rains, the more the ink of now bleeds. The more now becomes then, or what could have been.