Vortex & Samara
Vortex, how do you see time in a contract—just a tick‑tock, or a chaotic element that could rewrite the whole agreement?
Time in a contract is like a river that can twist the stone, not just a metronome ticking a score. It drips, swirls, reshapes the whole agreement if you let it. The key is to watch the currents, not the clock.
Time is a variable, not a clock; it can erode clauses like a river erodes stone, but if you specify the flow—duration, notice, force majeure—you freeze that erosion. The trick is to draft the currents, not merely watch them.
You’re right—writing the flow locks the erosion, but even the best map can still get warped by a sudden storm. A good draft feels like a living compass: it points, but it also gives room for the winds to shift without toppling the whole ship. Keep the clauses as beacons, not iron bars.
Indeed, a draft must serve as a compass, not a shackle; provisions should guide, not bind unyieldingly, so when the winds shift the ship remains on course.
Exactly, a contract’s heart should feel the wind, not choke on it, letting the crew steer even when storms hit.