The time is 5.52pm. The room is very nicely lit with late afternoon sun and the messy forsythia just outside is all ablaze.

But I’m writing to say that between exactly now and exactly 24 hours ago, I have made absolutely no progress.

I have not managed to affect even the very slightest improvement on my drift.

I am exactly where I was a day ago.

My guilt is exactly the weight it was, as is my unclear optimism.

I have precisely the same balance of insight and blurriness,

The same blend of success and failure

And my destiny is as up in the air as it ever has been.

The day has passed me all by, slipped over and around me

And there is not a single thing I can say differently than before it began.

If this past day was an opportunity for me to somehow comprehend, consolidate or secure something,

I have to say I have totally squandered it.

I truly couldn’t be more unimproved, unchanged.

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