π₯π π ❻➅ⓂπΆΟ❼π·ⓐοΌ©εΡ²❶αΆ❻οΌπⓎxοΌπ·ΰΈπ²πΡ²❶βοΌοΌπΧ₯᙭➆ⓑπΰΉΠ½Ρ²οΌβ❻οΌΠΌο½Ⓧ❼Π²α©οΌ©ΡΡ²❶α➅❻ⓂΖ³ⓧ➆π·πΞ―πΡ²➀π➅οΌπͺοΌΉπ©οΌΠ²ΓαΆ€Δ§Κ➀ⓒ➅➅α΅π¨Π❼Ξ²α©ΰΉΠ½Ρ²❶αΆ❻➅π¦ΡΛ£οΌπΰΈΰΉΠ½Κ❶αΆ➅➅π¦γⓍ➆ⒷΞ±ο½ⒽοΌ❶πΈοΌοΌπͺΧ₯Ⓧ❼ο½ππⓗΚ➀π¬❻❻οΌπΠ➆Ξ²επ’πΡ²❶β➅➅ΠΌ¥ⓧοΌπεπΎΠ½Κ➀π➅➅α°πͺπ΅οΌπΉⒶπο½Ρ²➀π➅❻ΠΌπⓧοΌδΉο½α₯π±Κ➀Ο❻➅ΠΌⓨπ΅❼π«πδΈ¨αΌΚ❶π¬οΌ❻π¦ⓨπ©➆Π²Ξ¬ΰΉπΚοΌαοΌ❻οΌγπ±οΌπ«α©ΰΉποΌ❶℃➅οΌπ¦πΆπ❼Π²ππαΌΡ²❶ο½❻οΌΠΌπ²π➆πεⒾⒽοΌ❶αΆ❻❻ΠΌπΆπ➆ππΈαΆ€ⓗΡ²❶ ππEven if you think it: there's not enough time in the day: it will never matter. Thinking that will never make more time. It's one of the more frustrating human experiences. The longing for a magic button that would freeze the world, even for an hour, is strong, and maybe the strongest longing I personally have for any magic button. So let's retreat to food and (somehow more) mindless tasks. That's the answer. 26 minutes and counting. 22 actually. That's just the time till the next thing, taken up. Don't get me started on the big picture which is so tiny in terms of time. I haven't touched the white and black in a long time and there shan't be any time for it today, either. Spending time searching for the answers is also spent time and, thus, wasted. Every figure strung out, sitting next to the other figures, waiting. Till the get to the end of a line, end of a road, end of a moment. That the it's all made of moments stops to matter when they're squeezed so tight they're suffocating, the mass of every fish in a waterless ocean.
