Because I am immensely frustrated by the age in which I was born, who compels me to live with the fast-forward button forever pressed, I decided to become a little fraud and steal the most precious resource (by my head) that we have the people, the time. I steal time whenever I can and in any manner I can. And if at first I felt somewhat guilty because I „betray” my job, my friends, my relationship and my life, I ended up stealing time without remorse.
I steal from the time devoted to household chores and leave them undone until the woman hired to clean up her. I steal from the time dedicated to the TV and I try to read and read it inevitably urges me to write, and the writing, because it happens with breaks to come back to reality, closes the circle and invariablely sends me back to read for the regaining of the much desired state of Bliss and inspiration.
But lately, mostly stealing from job time because I discovered that my job that kept me at work 8 hours a day can be done in six hours and why not even in four hours if I’m well organized. And I invest the time stolen in reading and writing and often just in my sleep and dreamt with my eyes closed or open to another age, to my heroines in the novels read on neerasuflate and lived more intensely than my own life.
I have not yet found the perfect and safe way to get out of my time and transpose myself to where I wish to be, where I find myself. But the idea and the need to get out of time, it’s not new, they’ve felt a lot of great philosophers and writers. It is even said that some have succeeded…
And maybe many other anonymous people felt it, like me, but they don’t know anything about them, and they never will. But I’m sure they existed and existed.
The Important thing is that in the life and style and age that were imposed on me by The Times I was born, to be able to bring at least a drop of another reality, a reality in which our life and time was ours, to think, to read, to Philosophe, to experiment and not just to fret M asphalt on the same single-tonne route house-service-house, slaves of a monotony that cancels one of the characteristics entrusted in our DNA, namely that each man is unique.
Finally, one last unworthy: stealing time!