I do not practice with a metronome because I want to become a better drummer. I practice with a metronome to practice focusing. To practice pretending that the world is objective. To meditate.
Just outside of Grey’s Papaya, there was an odd, frozen cluster of people. Neither my babysitter nor I could see through or over the group from afar, so we kept on walking toward it. Valerie squeezed my little hand.
They knew the surrounding wilderness like the backs of their hands, or rather, the wilderness and the backs of their hands were continuous, separated by no boundary.