What is lost is well described by the Polish-born writer[*] Eva Hoffman as “nothing more or less than the experience of experience itself. And what is that? Perhaps something like the capacity to enter into the textures or sensations of the moment; to relax enough so as to give oneself over to the rhythms of an episode or a personal encounter, to follow the thread of feeling or thought without knowing where it leads, or to pause long enough for reflection or contemplation.”[16] Ultimately, what we are distracted from is living.
