Afterword
The Affinity Time project has been, for me, a journey of discovery and synthesis unlike anything I anticipated. I came to it not as a trained philosopher or physicist, but as a dark horse from left field—someone wandering along while following a bumblebee, picking up fragments, and allowing them to refract in new ways.
What I found along the way feels like a magical bauble: a prism that catches the light of archaeology, phenomenology, and computation and scatters them into unexpected patterns. I have turned it over in my hands, studied its folds and shadows, and marveled at the rhythms it reveals. And just as importantly, I have had the chance to play with it—to test its colors, to push its metaphors, to see how it resonates in both thought and practice. I can continue to develop the framework, but I feel that the foundation is laid.
Now, with some awe and a little trepidation, I send it rolling back into the world. Perhaps it will glitter differently for each person who encounters it. Perhaps it will be picked up, reshaped, honed, reforged—or even ignored. That is part of the experiment. For me, the greatest gift has already been the discovery itself: the recognition that time is not a line but a fabric of affinities, and that each of us, in perceiving it, becomes part of its weave. There is a way in which each thing relates to all of the other things.
“God, please help me to counter my fear by helping me to understand the grand design. Amen.”
That is how this Affinity Time journey started for me.
The Rosita Museum 