It seems like life is moving in slow motion.
Not because the activity has died down. In fact the opposite is true.
Or because I can’t move as quickly as some. There are moments in a given day, during a given commute, when I might even be called rapid.
This motion refers to something else that is happening underneath the activity in a day. In my day.
It’s the timecode. It’s the white noise. It’s the silent optical soundtrack.
It’s all the the things that I wish I could be working on,
the significant, meaningful things – that are cast aside – for the day-to-day diurnal noise.
I feel much better thank you.