The minutes went by on tiptoe, with their fingers to their lips. I looked the place over. You can't tell anything about an outfit like that. They might be making millions, and they might have the sheriff in the back room, with his chair tilted against the safe.
I have the awful double impression of letting the fast, dizzying passing days flow away from me and of having remained clinging to one of them, which I keep reliving. I feel divided between the anguish of lost hours and the impossibility of being able to catch one of them and make it mine. I slip on everything; on the minutes, on the beings, on the things; I feel incapable of deepening anything, of letting myself be moved, of discerning and tasting beauty, of searching, of taking an interest. Everything touches me and I no longer see what can awaken an echo somewhere in me. Besides, even if I could see, I wonder if I would have the courage to make a gesture to get there. Only you remain alive in my dreams.
Maria Casarès to Albert Camus, Correspondance, February 8, 1950 [#179]
sometimes when I start spiraling about all the stuff I have to do and worrying about the future it comes down to what is this life we are all living and I realize I sound like henry/edward and his lab monologue and it actually grounds me cuz I start laughing at myself
OH THE HUMANITY: Let’s all take a moment to pray for Doug, who is facing the prospect of an entire FIVE MINUTES being spent driving into town. And they think they’ve got it tough in Syria.
just read minutes to midnight!!! excellent fic, 10/10. i am admittedly more of a dabi/toga stan than a hawks stan but your character choices are EXCELLENT. i've always wondered what it would take to make hawks understand himself better because he's in denial about. so much. and i think your answer is just fantastic.
Thank you so much!
Irony, if I ever write the sequel to minutes, it's going to be League focused lmfao.
I spend so much time trying to understand this character over the years that writing a fic that literally takes introspection and makes it into a plot-point felt like the right way to make him think about himself. I'm glad you enjoyed the story.
[We throw red onion and garlic in, and let that sauté for a few minutes. Longer mattered who had done the reminding, and then we add our crushed tomato, oregano, basil, a little bit of sugar, balsamic vinegar, and salt and pepper.]