That's where my memoir stands this morning.
Again, I slept pretty well and got up by 4 a.m. What am I waking for? I'm not going anywhere outside of this building unless for a short walk.
It's not cold; it's not hot. It's 52 degrees in Millbrae. This is "winter."
Writing is my best habit. As soon as I make it to my computer I start. Time slows to the point I don't notice time. Every now and again I do stop in order to check the time. It might be time for a meal or to meet somebody.
It -- time -- advances in increments. It's relentless but fungible. Hours race; seconds crawl. Whatever cadence is there remains imperceptible to me.
If I wish I were somewhere else I don't know where that would be, because it wouldn't help me escape or master time. Place matters but it is simply an overlay over time. A layer.
As far as I see it, therefore, I might as well be in Millbrae at a place called Cadence.
-30-
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