I’ve been feeling unduly pressed for time, in both the short and long term. Rationally I can suss out how impatience — in the threat of the limitations and scarcities of life — is a generally unhelpful emotional condition, despite how it cajoles itself on the surface to be perfectly suited to the panic of gate closing, only to perpetuate more of itself.
Certain things ultimately do take the time they take — for example:
The Mellow Pad, by Stuart Davis,
was only finished after six years of work.
