Something that I would hurry up if I could? Flights. Most drives.
It used to be the week, or the work day. Now my workday doesn’t really end, but I still want to, as Thoreau so eloquently put it, “live deep and suck all the marrow of life.” I wanted to “not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Pace Oddity.”