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She didn’t like talking to people that much. Characters in books she could understand, and complicated academic arguments in papers were no problem. But people…they were a puzzle she couldn’t quite crack. Too much time talking with others took a toll on her.
Time is a treacherous mistress. In our youth it flows slow and deep; the days stretch out endlessly. When we are children, a summer lasts for a century. As we age, the flow of time speeds up. Suddenly, a year vanishes with the snap of one’s fingers. How quickly time eludes us, how easily it tricks us.
