Within Margins.
When you work, you do so with purpose. To complete, or to compete, and to what lengths you feel are necessary—that is how far you will go. That is work.
And when you’re done, should you ever find an end to the constant grind, you will retire. You cease to work. You cease to toil. You cease to be an instrument for others to use, as you are now an instrument at your own disposal.
Our life, as day and night.
All long mornings bleed into short afternoons, and the evening is a blink before sleep. If you struggle, you tire faster.
Sleep is peace. Sleep can be eternal, too.
In this way, I am headed toward the mid-morning hustle. The world is vast, the sky’s the limit; I am ready yet unprepared.
I’ve done so much already. What more can I do?
What more do I want to do?
Cheers, Kat