time is slippery

I find it odd how time can feel like sandpaper one day and then, suddenly, like that yellow slip and slide I played with as a child. It's a funny one.
Kurt Vonnegut died earlier this year. In his book on what happened in Dresden he tells a tale of a man who describes an alien race that views the world in four dimensions. This somehow leads to the ability to see a personal history as a whole entity. One can pop in and out of any moment at any time? This is a curious way to deal with the concept of death. And I liked the sound of it.
It doesn't really fit here, it just occurred to me.
Time is a funny one.
So it goes.