Life is like an exam in which you struggle to write as much as possible, pack as much into each answer as possible, until the moment when the teacher says “Time’s Up”, and you stop, reluctantly, seeing, on the exam paper, gaps where you could have, should have, said more, places where, gulp, you have expressed something badly, or just plain wrongly, places where you know, just know, if you had a little more time, you could have impressed the examiner with your brilliance. But the clock has stopped, and all you can do is hand in your paper at the teacher’s desk before exiting with the crowd. If only you could have written faster.
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