/aI/

don't have time to come here (but I should always take time to put down the I at the beginning of that sentence: I don't have time to come here). Calculating the hours I spent on what I'm doing each day, I am shocked at the amount of time passing by, almost imperceptibly. Is that how much I care about it or how much I love it or how much I am confused? There is no way to say, perhaps all of them. If I stop, the vacancy will immediately be occupied by "my old pals", the familiar question marks, whose visiting I don't quite appreciate. But even without their actually entering in my mind, I can smell the same smell, the same bleached smell, which would normally drag me into this entanglement ... not yet, but I am afraid...suddenly I remember (that is why I'm wasting time here for not forgetting) that the similar situation happened before, and then something else that I could not have possibly predicted happened too. I was caught off guard so it flashed through by so quickly that I could catch. But the conclusion is: why shouldn't that happen again? Les choses arrivent, est-ce pas? tant que vous ne vous emprisonnez vous-même.