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Sunday was the only day in recent memory that felt like time was barely going by. Out at breakfast, the farmers’ market, the museum, the park, on no one’s schedule but my own, the feeling that I try to create for my patients in clinic – that there’s no hurry, all the time in the world – prevailed.

Surrounded by lovey-dovey twosomes, desperately fun-seeking families, half obnoxiously-disgruntled/half silently-resigned couples, and everything inbetween, I felt like I was the only one doing this day right.

Any other solo breakfast and FM and museum and park goers, of which there were just a few – total weirdos. Me – blissfully free, stretching time like it was Mozzarella in the making. OK fine, blissfully free *and* a total weirdo. What a way to be, at last.

1 out of 3

People in the world with my same name. I'm related to the other two. So far it's worked out well.

goodly reading

Works, Volume 7
Down and Out in Paris and London
The Dinner
The Difference Engine
The Master and Margarita