<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Time on cphaynes.app</title><link>https://cphaynes.app/tags/time/</link><description>Recent content in Time on cphaynes.app</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sun, 13 Sep 2026 07:31:33 -0400</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://cphaynes.app/tags/time/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Three Years Gone</title><link>https://cphaynes.app/posts/2026-09-13-three-years-gone/</link><pubDate>Sun, 13 Sep 2026 07:31:33 -0400</pubDate><guid>https://cphaynes.app/posts/2026-09-13-three-years-gone/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;English puts its little relational words in front of things. On the table, before dinner, after the war, since Tuesday. That is so consistent that &amp;ldquo;preposition&amp;rdquo; is the only name most people ever learn for the category, and the more general term, adposition, sounds like something a linguist made up to be difficult. But the language has a handful of words that go on the other side, and the most common one is so ordinary that I doubt anyone notices it is strange.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>