Where does a person even begin to talk, think, or write about time?
I’ve just come home from an event in Derry, last night, and today it felt like I’d been away for a week at the least. However, I was away for just over 36 hours. A return trip composed of two car journeys, three buses (one of which was six hours with not even a stop for fresh air) and a train. I was in a vehicle for around half of those hours, a thing I used to experience lots in my University years.
Long, slow journeys; long before there was a wee device in my pocket I could fill those hours with. I decided , on these trips yesterday and the day before , to work a bit, on NESTING, (thanks for so many beautiful comments & shares!) — but also to simply sit.
To be with my thoughts.
To simply BE.
It has been an exceptionally long time since
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