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They drank some more, patiently waiting for intoxication to spread over their brows like a cool rag.
“It’s so hard,” Sara said all of a sudden, “to live in the present. Right this minute. We spend most of our time in the past. Or in the future—about half in each. But to live in the present! Hardly anybody can do it. Except for children. Or idiots. Or sick people who have some kind of chronic pain that’s always with them. And most of the time we’re worrying about something.” “But not you, surely not you?”
