There's
a hazardous sadness to the first sounds of someone else's work in the
morning; it's as if stillness experiences pain in being broken. The
first minute of the workday reminds you of all the other minutes that a
day consists of, and it's never a good thing to think of minutes as
individuals. Only after other minutes have joined the naked, lonely
first minute does the day become more safely integrated in its dayness.
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