Master, you have five minutes of order left. How would you like to spend the three hundred seconds before chaos? What does it mean to have a few breaths until the entire human existence screams your name? I want to know in exact words what it feels like to be you at this moment. Is it how an Oscar nominee feels in the seconds between the envelope is opened and the winner of the award is announced? Or is it the feeling you get right before you die when your entire life flashes in front of you? What is the burden of those seconds? Was Einstein correct in saying that all time is relative? Do these two hundred and fifty seconds bear the weight of seventy-five years of your minds work? Or are they simple the distance between uncooked corn and popcorn? Because if these are the most important seconds of your life then they shouldn't be called something so ordinary. You can change the entire fate of the world in a few seconds and you can warm up tea in a few seconds. How could two things with such different magnitude be measured on the same Richter Scale? Would you compare the speed of the clouds with the viscosity of a flowing river? Both are made of water. Where do you draw the line? Who gets to draw the line? Can I decide what I want to compare? Because if I could, I would compare the depth of these two hundred seconds left to the amount of comfort I feel in my mother's arms. But even then, I have a fair inkling that the latter would win.