what is time for but to waste? if we have enough food but keep eating, keep saving, is it wise? or are we all in search of the goldilocks moments? just the right amount of it all, the perfect balance where the sun sets perfectly, our days full of progress and production, our evenings full of relaxation and rest. where the weather changes so we can know what cold and hot feel like, luxury and despair so we can compare the two.

time drops in decay, like a candle burnt out,

and the mountains and woods have their day, have their day.

william butler yeats-

on day 3 of a mandatory lock-down I sit in my house moving from one area to the other, one task to the next. my monkey mind in full control as i give in to the constraint of being told to stay inside till the local governments give up like the rest of the world, give in to the most recent flu or pandemic or whatever it is keeping us aware of our mortality. quantity or quality they are thinking, now or later, its tough questions that have no correct answers. it should be left for the individuals to decide, but in a socialist or communist society the individual gives way to collectivism, the single mindedness does not count, i knew this when i bought in, so i sit and wait and hope reason trumps rationale.

in the meantime i squander time. in the way i would otherwise, with myself among my stuff, with my family and with my friends although on phones and in letters. moments of anxiety swap places with boredom and intrigue. the other side of this confinement has its own limitations, has its own barriers. how does one squeeze the grit out of life when middle-age sets in? after a certain point a bouquet or fruit must be discarded, an idea abandoned, a quarantine lifted.