6pm

Oct. 20th, 2006 06:34 pm
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[personal profile] desperance
So I'm sitting here, and it's six o'clock in the evening and it occurs to me that I really rather like this time of day. The bulk of the work is behind me, so I can afford to; I have checked another 115 pages of the copy-edit, and I have written four pages of the new book, and both these things are good, each in the context of the other. And my day is of course not over yet, but the pressure's off.

And it's six o'clock in catworld too, and Barry also likes this time of day, but in an entirely different fashion. He's been looking forward to it with increasing desperation for at least three hours now, and maybe longer; and his pleasure lasts for about five minutes, or maybe shorter, and then there's nothing left but to look forward to 7am. We're talking teatime here, and breakfast to follow. And yes, I do remember adolescence, and that all-pervading hunger that made meals absolutely the focal points of the day; and actually I can still do that, I can spend all day thinking about what I'm going to eat and when, only I think we think on different levels. He doesn't give a toss about what it is or how it's cooked, he only wants to be eating. And he spends such short periods doing it, and such long aching times waiting for it, hoping for it, begging for it: thus is guilt constructed, in his human.

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