Yesterday I skived out on myself. I had set myself work to do but then snuck out while my conscience wasn’t looking and got on a train. I brought something I was supposed to read to ease the guilt a little.
I sat down and like a good student got out my tutorial material, reading rapidly (and therefore learning barely anything). I didn’t look out the window. I love looking out the window. I like to lean back and feel how I am being physically shot forward through space, a sort of slow-motion bullet experience.
Not being able to look out the window made the experience more surreal, because my attention was still on the world outside that I was being flung through.
Maybe other adults aren’t fascinated by this sort of thing anymore.
I can’t suppress my child-like awe.