Drifting to sleep in the hope of waking up to week seven. Grateful for the flying visit home. Just four hours.

But just enough to re-touch-base with everything familiar. Everything comfort. Everything safe. Everything home.

In a world where each day feels like one week- where it’s impossible to retain and absorb the details of great stories, moments; the cringe, the happy, the bad, difficulties, triumphs…where remembering to have lunch is an anomaly and where time to pee is a luxury, in this world you begin to learn the value of time.

I remember prior to pupillage I hadn’t worn a watch in years.
Now I have four. That I alternate dependent on outfit accordingly.

I remember prior to pupillage, I never used to understand people in London that run for a tube and get annoyed that they miss it even when the next one is due in a minute.
Now I find myself jumping through tube doors whilst the closing sound is beeping.

It is when your time is no longer your own that you crave all the time you let slip.

That time then, was valueless.
That time now, priceless.

I am learning that although the length of time that I can call my own is much less, the quality of that time is so much richer. For when I am able to see my parents, my family, my friends, able to sit, read, write, think- it’s so much more precious.

Why does something need to be restricted or taken away before we are able to appreciate it’s worth?

All the time I let pass, I wish I could reclaim.

The biggest fear is time escaping.

The point when you look in the reflective glass and ask yourself- who is that?

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