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Gadzooks Marchmain's avatar

THANK YOU!

In the late naughties I remember a lady in a bar (Indo in Whitechapel, for superfluous context) singing the praises of an alarm clock that woke her up with gentle whispers and buzzings and a light that oh so slowly intensified as though the sun had entered the room and tenderly kissed your eyelids (she didn't put it quite that way). She was incredulous when I said I appreciated the brutal, institutionalised intensity of my wind up alarm clock's thrackadingalinging tearing me out of a dream, straight into the embodied world.

My point is, if the benefits of time saving are unreflectively embraced by the designers of our lives, heaven help us when they come for our last lingering shreds precious discomfort.

I wonder where the Lady From The Bar is today. I like to think she's in the stock photo illustration for your article.

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Jane Forth's avatar

More time to pick up a pencil and draw Presumably that would be the case for me but I’m a Luddite, working on growing a tomato with great anticipation that part of the worldly wonders still operate in a different time clock. 70 days from seed to a delectable treat, sun ripened and all that. Are we addicted to having instant gratification- you have hit the nail on the head!

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