Lost and Late

29-30 October 2013
6:34 AM-12:09 AM


This letter has been writing and rewriting itself since I woke up yesterday morning, and now I am about to go to bed the following day. It still counts, I think–and then I begin to ask myself, is that true?

I begin to think about fine lines, and how we toe them. The reasons we give to justify our actions. How we get our hands dirty.

It is past midnight, I am typing on my phone in the dark, and I am asking myself: is this a letter?

I remember something Woody Allen said. How a big part of success is showing up. Because that’s it, isn’t it? You need to be there; you need to be present for your life. To arrive, knock on the door, sit on your desk, day in, day out. This–our place here–does not need, in any way, a validation for success. But we show up anyway, no matter how late. I like to think it is because both of us believe we are doing something important–something that matters. Is it to pick up a thread of a forgotten conversation? Is it because this is the table we have reserved for us at our favourite pub? Is it to talk ourselves out of or into something, into doing? Who knows.

Perhaps it is a mystery. For now, at least. But: showing up, day in, day out–I’m here. Sorry I’m late.



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