Känner hur dagarna rinner som sand genom fingrarna. Låter dem passera förbi, saktflytande som en stilla å. Lathet eller ovilja att påverka, ovilja to disrupt the surroundings or in any way affect anything in one way or the other.
The old man's reflections när han jagar efter den största fisk han någonsin sett, from The old Man and the Sea (Hemingway):
"Imagine if each day a man must try to kill the moon, he thought. The moon runs away. But imagine if a man each day should have to try to kill the sun? We were born lucky, he thought."
But why's the rum gone? Wish I had that kind of a stash too...
