Sometimes I have felt I wish my life was like in a book. Not necessarily because of the good chance for a happy ending, but rather the ability to steer the speed of things yourself. The ability to move to the next page and shorten a certain period to the time it takes to read: “she was zapping between the 3 channels of the old TV for the rest of the evening”. And slow it down as life is sometimes extra enjoyable: “she could hear the wind in the trees and saw the sun glitter in the sea before she slowly looked into his eyes. Thoughts and memories from the last time they had been standing like that upheld her mind for a while as he slowly laid his hand on her arm and cleared his throat. He looked thoughtful as if he was formulating his thoughts before finally open his mouth.” The words to read doesnt correlate with the time it takes for them to happen. Its like built-in fast forward and slow motion buttons at the mercy of the author.