Full-time work is defining. How could it not be, swallowing such a large part of time and energy? Defines me: tired, frustrated work machine. Nothing ticks inside a stopped mechanical, so ticking through the past few days was just the small, uncertain part that's not machine. Upside down, out-of-sorts days these have been, moving jerkily from inaction to action and back again. Tick. Hesitation. Tock. In the hesitation, things disappear: glasses, money... me. Finding my own rhythm would take so much longer than a week. The clocks went back last night. The mind treads water, while the body pushes forward and away [away until 9 April].
Upside down photo of Poise by Angela Conner at the Fitzwilliam.
hope you put your clock forward, not back...?
ReplyDeleteI think when you're upside down, dear Fire Bird, it makes little difference :-)
ReplyDelete