All this waiting.
Waiting for the rain to
stop. Waiting in traffic.
Waiting for the bill.
Waiting at the airport
for an old friend.
Waiting to depart.
Then,
there’s the big waiting:
waiting to grow up. Waiting
for love. Waiting to show your
your parents that when you
have kids you’ll be different.
Waiting to retire. Waiting for
death.
Why do we think waiting
is the antithesis of life
when it is almost
all of it?

An assembly is extra slow in taking actions.

Gray.
The overcast skies had the colour of deadened stones, and seemed closer than usually, as though they were phlegmatically observing my every movement with their apathetic emptily blue-less eyes; each tiny drop of hazy rain drifting around resembled transparent molten steel, the pavement looked like it was about to burst into disconsolate tears, even the air itself was gray, so ultimate and ubiquitous that colour was everywhere around me.
Gray…

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