A friend of mine visited Rome this week. I only saw him on one of his visiting days. As I saw him off at his train to the airport (London-bound before Australia-bound, before back to work in Cork, Ireland), I told him, “You have 18 minutes left.” 18 minutes came and went. I told him goodbye for the third time since last fall, each time believing it would be the last. Another 18 minutes came and went. And another. And still another.
I have 9 days left in Rome. That’s a whole lot of 18 minuteses. They will come and go every 18 minutes. I can’t possibly change that.