“Ten minutes. It’s only ten minutes”, that’s what she thought. But even ten minutes is a long time to stay focused. To stay in the moment and not be distracted by everything else.
I should set an alarm. Or stopwatch. No, a countdown timer would be better. The first minute has already passed. I’m wasting time. Or am I? Why always the rush? That need to be quicker, faster than anything else. Anyone else. I feel rushed, even when no one is rushing me.
Ten minutes to write about what. Anything I guess. While I look outside I see autumn passing by. Summer is drifting away, just like my thoughts. My focus, it flies out of the window, together with that black and white bird passing by, slowly disappearing in the sky. My horizon is blocked with houses and trees. I cannot see the end of the world from here, not even the end of the street. And still it’s enough of a view to let my mind drift away. Drift away to the horizon and beyond. Clouds in the sky, driven by the wind and free to disappear into a great wide nothing.
I’ve only got a few hours of work left before I’m heading home for the weekend. I should get started on finishing my to do list for today. Instead I’m writing. Ten minutes. It’s only ten minutes. What’s ten minutes in a day, a week, a life time? The black and white bird appears again. I should really find out what its name is. I do know, somewhere in my mind I remember the name of the bird.
Only a minute left. Should I have been writing without keeping time in mind? Without setting myself to this task of writing, just plain writing? I look outside and see the bird flying off again. It’s gone.