Everyone knows that change is hard. People piously talk about how change is the only constant. Most refer to change in the external environment. But what happens when the external world is excruciatingly unchanging, while only your internal world is changing, evolving, expanding, imploding? Life is still technicolour, its just on slow-motion. That will make any picture seem duller. It’s the flashing lights that make the most lurid images, the ones that flash by just fast enough to evoke a thought or an emotion, before it disappears. When everything is slower, every step takes longer, all the flaws are exposed. The novelty wears off and even the most sophisticated sonatas will seem mundane. When Covid started, it was a pleasure to slow down, to take a breath, to have time to do nothing. Nearly 2 years on, its hard either way – going back to pre-Covid pace of life seems beyond exhausting, but continuing in the middle lane is boring and somehow still more exhausting. I used to have
"A dawn to end all nights, that's all we hoped it was"