Earlier on it wasn’t so much that she didn’t care; it’s just that it didn’t matter. She had more than enough.
But quite soon, as a few years passed in an instant, she went from “I’m bored” to “I need more.”
And as the accelerating pace of its ephemeral progression left her youth more and more behind, occasionally she would protest: “But I don’t feel older!”
Yet in another instant, as it was just about gone — she accepted she would be, too.
The eternal irony was that shortly after the moment of its apparent demise, attendant with her own, it began again.
But of course, it never really changed at all.
And once more she set out to journey: the paradox of time.