In our fast-moving modern world, it always seems that the time-train is pulling out of the station just as we reach the platform. No matter how fast we go, no matter how cleverly we schedule, there are never enough hours in the day.

Lately time has been moving too fast. The places I used to frequent are all closed, my brother grows a head taller every time I see him, all my friends are moving away, doors and empty apartments spinning in their wake. The map of my life is getting larger, choices feel weightier. All the things I vowed to love forever have changed, and I’m

Superficially, this seems like a sensible way to live, especially in a hypercompetitive economic climate, in which it feels as though you must constantly make the most judicious use of your time if you want to stay afloat. (It also reflects the manner in which most of us were raised: to prioritize future benefits over current enjoyments.) But