Time Feels As If It Goes So Fast

Dinner ends and it is already seven. Dawdle through to eleven and that is only four hours. Study a while, write a while, read a while — and it’s over?

Does the next unhurried stretch have to wait for Saturday and Sunday? And yet time feels very slow too.

Next to that, the surroundings still affect me too much. Nobody speaks, there is nothing of interest in it, and it feels like sitting out the hours. This is not the life I hope for, and yet I need capital enough to step into the life I want.

There is a theory that as I take hold of my work, as I grow more and more practised, I will come to like my work. All right — some aspect of the work, it should be. Because the surroundings matter too.