The last summer of my childhood has begun, but I can't help but think that that time has come and gone. Moments pass in a flurry of color and emotion, stimuli that blinds us from the real reality of time. What is time? I often doubt that it even exists - perhaps just a notion we invented to -- why? Keep track of the years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds, all created for the purpose of watching them pass.