Busy days, long nights.
Time slips by very fast; unusually fast; unlikable fast. This morning, I was eating breakfast, opened up my art book, doodled around, and the next time I looked at the clock I hardly had five minutes until missing the bus. Could we pause New Zealand for a while? I have had theories that the south of the earth must spin much faster than elsewhere, and the past few weeks I’ve really been questioning if I’m not right.