The Return of the Twelve Hour Work Day

Makes me crave two things: creative expression and junk food.

Being confined (as a prisoner to sunlight) to a few (less than two) measly free hours a day, suddenly I realize their infinite potential. The pad of paper calls my name. Poetic nonsense flitters through my mind. I feel the urge to compose some meaningless melody. But by the time I sit down, my eye lids are heavy, my limbs beg for rest.

So for the time being I feed myself with some music, some Borges, and a tub of chocolate ice cream.