When you spend as little time asleep as I do these days (roughly four hours spread over a 24-hour cycle) there are times when your mind opens all its doors and windows and you neither know nor care what floats in or out. Sunny days are particularly good for this, but unfortunately, that’s not a call one gets to make. If anything, it’s like a magician’s box, the kind they put the lovely assistant in, then spin around to show there’s no secret panel just before shoving a half dozen swords into it only to open the door and … she’s gone! And that’s very much what it’s like: here one minute, gone the next.
A Sense of History
A Sense of History
A Sense of History
When you spend as little time asleep as I do these days (roughly four hours spread over a 24-hour cycle) there are times when your mind opens all its doors and windows and you neither know nor care what floats in or out. Sunny days are particularly good for this, but unfortunately, that’s not a call one gets to make. If anything, it’s like a magician’s box, the kind they put the lovely assistant in, then spin around to show there’s no secret panel just before shoving a half dozen swords into it only to open the door and … she’s gone! And that’s very much what it’s like: here one minute, gone the next.